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girl4music · 3 years ago

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BUFFY REWATCH - S04E22 - Restless

Tara: “I think it’s strange. I mean, I think I should worry that we haven’t found her name.”

Willow: “Who, Miss Kitty?”

*shot of their kitten, playing with a ball of red yarn in slow-motion*

Tara: “You’d think she’d let us know her name by now.”

Willow: “She will.

*looking down at Tara*

She’s not all grown yet.”

Tara: “You’re not worried?”

Willow: “I never worry here. I’m safe here.”

Tara: “You don’t know everything about me.”

Willow: “Have you told me your real name?”

Tara: “Oh, you know that.

*Willow smiles, reaches for something. Shot of a paintbrush dipping into ink jars*

They will find out, you know. About you.”

Willow: “Don’t have time to think about that. You know I have all this homework to finish.”

*the camera pulls back so we can see Tara is lying face-down on her bed, naked, and Willow is painting on her back*

Tara: “Are you gonna finish in time for class?”

Willow: “I can be late.”

Tara: “But you’ve never taken drama before.

*shot of Willow dipping the paintbrush again, moving it across to Tara’s back, which is covered with Greek symbols*

Might miss something important.”

Willow: “I don’t wanna leave here.”

*Tara twists back to look at her*

Tara: “Why not?”

*Willow stands up, looking down at Tara. She turns away toward a dark red curtain. Walks over to it*

Willow: “It’s so bright.

*pulls back the curtain to reveal a brightly sunlit desert. The light falls on Tara, who looks over. Looking back at Tara, still holding the curtain open*

And there’s something out there.”

*shot of the desert, straggly plants, rocks. We briefly see something (someone?) moving, then it’s gone. Shot of the kitten stalking forward toward the camera, in slow-motion*

I have been so anxious to get to this episode and write my meta. For all the time I’ve brought up Willow’s insecurities, this is the one and only episode that lays them all bare for everybody to see, if - and this is important -, you are clever enough to decipher the code of visual symbolism and possess the ability of interpretation. Pretty much all of the episode ‘Restless’ requires you to interpret what you see. You’re not told straight-forwardly what the dreams, each of the core 4 Scooby members have, are about and that’s precisely what I love about it and why it is probably my most favourite episode of the whole show.

Now, obviously, I’m only going to be talking about Willow’s dream in the episode because if I were to do an analysis of every character’s dream, I’d be here all day and this recap would be incredibly long. I would suggest watching YouTuber Passion Of The Nerd’s analysis for it to get the whole picture. Much of what I will write here will draw from that as I agree with quite a lot of it and think it makes a lot of sense in understanding each character. Every character has fears, worries and insecurities, and that’s what these dreams are specifically about, but Willow’s go much deeper than can be witnessed in all of the show due to her “hiding” them under a “thinly-veiled” persona of who she wants to be. For the most part, you only get to see who she wants you to see. It is not until this episode that all of Willow’s real thoughts and feelings take center-stage - quite literally. There’s a reason why both her dreams in ‘Nightmares’ and ‘Restless’ have her performing on stage. The former, being more about stage fright and about wanting to go unnoticed. The latter, about acting like something she’s not and “putting on a show” of confidence and security to the other characters, who she fears knows about “the real her”, and the audience watching her. Now, “the real her” is as ambiguous as this entire dream sequence is - meaning: it depends on your point of view who Willow is. And this is why I clash with @confusedguytoo about Willow often regarding my views and opinions on Willow. They see something different to me. However, I’ll let them better explain that if they so wish to. I’ll only explain what I see - in Willow - and in this episode.

I relate Willow’s insecurities to her accumulation of power and need for control. For me, much of what I interpret in ‘Restless’ ties in and very much foreshadows Willow’s magic addiction and ‘Dark Willow’ storyline in Season 6 because, to me, Dark Willow is less about the Magicks and more about power and rage, (Anya interjects here: “and vengeance, don’t forget vengeance”). So I will go through the meaning of Willow’s dream in ‘Restless’ from the way I interpret it and in my own words:

Starting off, we have Willow sat on Tara’s bed with Tara (well, actually Tara is laying down on it and Willow is sat on it.) Tara is turned away from Willow as Willow paints some writing on her bare back (see Passion Of The Nerd’s analysis to know what is being written because it’s very significant to the scene.) This part of Willow’s dream has more to do with Tara than Willow, but it’s important to remember that it’s all from Willow’s perspective. Willow worries that there’s something about Tara that Tara isn’t telling her. Something she’s not “facing her” with and letting her know bothers her. But other than that - she has no worries. She feels safest with Tara and, as I’ve previously mentioned in another recap, is much more invested in the relationship they share than Tara is at this point in it. And the scales don’t actually equal in that because Willow becomes uncomfortably and unhealthily invested in that she starts to abuse Tara in such a way where she wants to make sure Tara pays the most attention to her. And magic has always been the best way for Willow to have “her will be done” well before Tara entered the picture of her life. And so, she knows it’s her bread and butter to getting her way.

Moving on, we now see Willow walking the halls of Sunnydale high school and Xander and Oz are in the dream. No Tara. Meaning this part of the dream is something passed in her life but still very present in her mind. Although this is of the past, the dialogue between all 3 characters is about Willow’s then-future. There is mention of Tara and of the drama class they will take in college. I interpret this to mean that Willow can’t entirely let go of what was to focus on what is or what will be. Hence why Oz is in the scene and why he says “Oh, I’ve been here forever” when Willow asks him if he’s ever took the drama course - at which point we see Willow trying to take something out of her locker but can’t seem to get it open. I interpret this to mean she’s locked out and cannot access that part of her life anymore despite still thinking about it, and specifically Oz, in it. You see, Oz may have followed Willow to college, but he never stayed. Their relationship was only one that existed in high school and Willow has regretfully moved on from Oz and entered a new relationship that exists in college and will last beyond that. She cannot access her high school life anymore. She cannot access Oz anymore. Thus, their love affair was tied to their high school life and Willow no longer goes there.

At this point we see Willow walk out of the frame, leaving Xander and Oz behind, to stand backstage of a production in their drama class - of which Willow has never even rehearsed for and hasn’t even had her first drama class yet. And the characters of Harmony, Riley and Buffy are dressed up in costume ready to perform the play and tell Willow that she’s late but she’s “already” dressed in “costume” and “already” in “character”. Giles then enters the scene as the stage director and his dialogue in rallying his actors to get ready to perform reveals that this play is all about Willow. In fact - she’s the main character in it (go figure) and everybody in the audience, including the cast, is there to watch her perform.

“Acting is not about behaving, it’s about hiding. The audience wants to find you, strip you naked, and eat you alive, so hide.” - Giles.

Next Willow goes behind the stage curtains (which are red to represent a vagina, apparently, according to Whedon in the commentary track for ‘Restless’) and finds Tara among them with her who tells her that things aren’t going very well. Willow says that drama class is not being done in the “proper” way, she doesn’t know what to do, and the play’s starting soon. Tara then tells her that the play’s already started and that’s not the point anyway. Willow doesn’t understand. As the play happens without Willow, Tara disappears, and what was following Willow attacks her.

Buffy saves her and we go back to Sunnydale high school. This time we’re in a classroom. It isn’t clear which class but it’s presumably English as Willow reads out a book report on ‘The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’. Before she does that though, Buffy tells Willow that the play is long over and asks her why she’s still in “costume”. Willow responds that it’s not a costume, she’s just in her outfit of the day. Buffy tells her that everybody already knows about her and to take her “costume” off, to which Willow panics and refuses. Buffy rips her “costume” off of her to reveal her wearing the clothes she was wearing on the very first episode of the show. Now, Willow stands in front of a full classroom of her peers (both from high school, college, and the Scooby Gang) mocking her for her appearance and her reaction to being totally exposed to what she believes everybody perceives of her as the truth of who she really is. Still a shy loser. The dream sequence ends with what was following Willow and attacked her throughout; the first Slayer sucking out her soul and leaving the real Willow paralyzed in her sleeping state. Unable to escape from her personal Hell.

So what does it all mean? Well, it really all depends on the way you interpret her dream. Some things about Willow and what she thinks and feels are clear, some are not. But how I’ve interpreted her dream in ‘Restless’ is that Willow, despite appearing a much more confident, secure and assertive person, doesn’t have any belief in herself when it comes to her value and requirement of her from her peers, friends and lovers… Or everyone that’s not her. Her need for validation in who she is and what she can do from everyone. Her worthiness in her work. Her ability and capacity to love. Her appearance to whoever perceives her. Especially the ones she loves. And her insecurities run so deep in this that even she doesn’t recognize them. She’s not aware to how much she’s acting like someone she’s not in order to please, in order to have attention, in order to feel of use to people. Now, it is not that she is still the loser. She’s definetly evolved into a much more worldly and well-rounded person since her high school days. Stronger, smarter, wiser, and more confident. It’s just she doesn’t believe in it and she absolutely fears no one else does either. In her mind she’s still the lonely nerd and she’s doing the most to make sure people don’t see that. Even though she has the belief that they do and always will. So her need for power and control all stems from these deep unconscious insecurities. Magic just happens to be the most effective tool for her to accumulate this. And she only becomes addicted to it in Season 6 because she relies on it to make her special. Even though she’s special as she is - with or without magic - to which Tara does her damnedest to make her aware of and believe. And she’s about the only person in the show that achieves it - until, of course, her death… Which, of course, triggers Dark Willow.

Willow's need for power and control as Dark Willow is channelled through rage and pain and so no amount of it is enough. Willow isn’t enough without Tara. None of these fears, worries and insecurities are the truth of Willow. But getting her to believe in and trust in that is next to impossible. Tara is only capable of it because she’s the one thing in the show that Willow truly loves. Is truly committed to. Is truly invested in. And she feels like she means and is nothing without her, without her love, without her attention, without her validation, without her light. She abuses her the most because she’s the one person in all of the show that she covets the most. That she doesn’t want to be without, that she feels the safest and is the happiest with. That she won’t let leave her life. Yes, it’s unhealthy. But true love can be when there’s so much inner turmoil. When there’s such a storm inside threatening to be unleashed with every bad day. Every screw up. Every "spaz" feeling. That's what it stems from. A loser mentality.

That is Willow’s entire predicament throughout the whole show and why her character representation, development and evolution is the greatest, the most profound, the most detailed, the most poignant. This is a character that you absolutely fall in love with very early on. To see them go from that gentle-natured, quirky, inspiring and endearing person to one of the most abusive, frustrating, corruptive and destructive people is hard. Fortunately, they’re given the endgame they deserve and become the hero. They learn to balance both sides to who they are - the dark and the light - and they become exactly who they want to be. Someone of great power and control. Someone that is valued and loved. Someone that matters. Whether she believes it or not is up to you. 😉

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dying-suffering-french-stalkers · 3 years ago

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Finally watching Goodbye Partner! I’m watching the dub, but I have the subs on so I can read the date/location popups and signs, so I’m getting a bit of dialogue comparison. I’ll probably go back and watch a few scenes with the original audio as well (Kiyoshi Kobayashi my beloved).

Here begins the liveblog, but all in one post and under a cut so it’s not as insufferable:

Starting strong with a heist escape sequence as per usual! As far as openings go, it’s hard to go wrong with that.

Oh, hello, literal actual Chopin courtesy of a timeskip/flashback.

What are these RWBY-ass CGI piano hands?? Y’all warned me and you were not kidding. Traditional rotoscoping would never hurt me in this way.

CUSTODY_OF_CHILD.JPG

Lupin playing in those see-through inflatable “hamster” balls skdfjskjdflsl

Intricate Rituals. Jiglup gunplay confirmed

Epcar’s delivery here was so much more aggressive than Kobayashi’s.

“Area 61, Colorado” just say Cheyenne Mountain

EDWARD ZNOWDEN

Fujiko really is terrible with kids

Listen, I love a good Dutch angle, but I’m starting to feel like I should set up a CinemaSins counter at this point. I’m glad to have some shot variety but there are other compositions, you know.

Motorcycle Jigen returns!!

Loving this little Morricone shoutout, which I unfortunately cannot seem to find on YouTube.

[strangled Goemon voice] “MISTAKE.”

God. GOD. Tony Oliver’s delivery in the betrayal scene is so good. Lupin is clearly not buying it at all and is quite willing to play along with whatever the hell this is - until Jigen shoots him right in the heart. That’s going to hurt a lot more than literally when he wakes up, though 1) given that the movie’s barely begun, I’m guessing he’s still not completely buying it (rightfully so) and is gonna look into this and 2) unfortunately this franchise isn’t known for actually digging into all the delicious angst and implications it likes to sling around. Cowards.

Also, I like that Lupin seems to be wearing a navy shirt and pink tie like he had in early Part 2 instead of the blue shirt/yellow tie he has in the other Red Jacket movies. Not sure why that’s what they went with but I’m down.

Okay, I went back and watched the betrayal scene in Japanese and OOF, it hits DIFFERENT to hear Kiyoshi Kobayashi deliver those lines. He’s so utterly casual about it and it’s all the more angsty since he’s, y’know, a million years old, so here his Jigen sounds much more tired/resigned compared to Epcar’s brasher gunman.

The way that the shots focus on not only Jigen, but also Fujiko when the boss asks about the betrayal...nice. Fujiko doesn’t know for sure if Jigen killed Lupin, but I imagine such a possibility would shake her at least a little - not just because she cares for that silly monkey man, but because that partnership has been a surprising constant in her life. If even that could finally crumble, her natural cynicism is about to get a whole lot deeper. Morbidly, she wants to know if Jigen had the balls to do it. It’d be a hell of a lot more kindred spirit between them than she ever expected if so. It’s a shame this plot wasn’t used in a Koike movie; it would’ve been great to see the deliberate parallel/foil from TWCFM continue.

“Why don’t we talk about your future?” the boss says as Jigen’s whole demeanor screams What future? Even though Lupin isn’t dead and Jigen has his reasons for why he did this, Jigen hardly expects forgiveness after all this. Lupin may be alive but Jigen has just killed the best thing he ever had and he can never get that back (except he can, because movie and long-running franchise, but y’know, Watsonian vs. Doylist).

The Dark Crystal (1982)

HATSUNE MIKU??? ACTUAL HATSUNE MIKU????? (just her voice but aksdjfkajsdkfjaklsjdfljasjdflajsdf)

Ohhhh, the Lupin & Clarisse / Jigen & the kid’s mom (still haven’t heard her name lmao) parallel was just uncalled for, my heart

Let Jigen wear burgundy more often

...Mr. Epcar, I love and respect you, but is it too much to ask that you vary your inflection a little more? Where’s the PATHOS?

Slightly cried instantly, “The Wendy lady lives.” Then Peter knelt beside her and found his button. You remember she had put it on a chain that she wore round her neck. “See,” he said, “the arrow struck against this. It is the kiss I gave her. It has saved her life.”

BLACK JACKET

Burgundy suit + round glasses Goemon!!!

There’s no way Pops is getting his job back after this one

Goemon: [turns his usual hot girl swordsmanship up to 11]

Lupin: Well mark me down as scared AND horny! dot jpeg

Again with the CGI hand crimes.

Wow he straight-up said Jigen was cheating on him

Ah, see, that “waste of oxygen”/“huge mistake” bit of dialogue is the kind of inflection I like to hear.

WarGames (1983)

It took me entirely too long to realize the president was supposed to look like H.illary.

Goemon: [slices open a door for Fujiko]

Fujiko: “Oh, you.” <3

This is all very action-heavy and surprisingly decent for a Lupin film so far, but uh. why is Jigen once again a side character in his own movie?

Ayyyy, nice reference to Zantetsuken’s composition from Part 1. Still insane that they melted down three awesome swords to make a different sword though.

Goemon snarks back to robots confirmed. Not that Lupin would ever be stupid enough to buy an Al3xa/etc. but can you IMAGINE

JAZZ PIANIST FUJIKO! Fujiko having actual interests and hobbies!!!

Comrade Emilka

TRIPLE PARALLEL WITH JIGEN & ALISA NOW

They just?? left Jigen in the middle of the desert after the absolute minimum discussion of All That???? That’s...on-brand actually but give me the angst this plot device deserved >:(

Michelle Ruff I would die for you

This variation on the main theme is my favorite. I’ve probably listened to it about a thousand times at this point but I finally got to hear it in context.

Welp, that was one of the better Lupin movies I’ve seen, but I do wish they’d done more with the whole Jigen betrayal thing that ended up being more of a subplot. Thank goodness for fics that do the work.

Edit: “There are about four different plots going on at once in this movie, and they forgot to focus on the one that’s in the actual title.” - @theimpossiblescheme

#lupin iii #goodbye partner #jigen #long post

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haloud · 3 years ago

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things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 11

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Jones lets Michael in on a secret.

Excerpt:

He took a step back, but the symbols he’d touched continued to glow, burning into the surface of the pod. They pulsed, gold and fiery, for several seconds, before dimming, the colors of the pod pausing, like it was holding its breath.

Then it flickered; Michael yelled in shock as the symbols lifted from the surface, shimmering and gold and shaping themselves into a familiar-unfamiliar form.

A young woman, hair pulled back severely, wearing a stark-white uniform—at least, it looked like a uniform, almost like scrubs—looked down at Michael. The corners of her mouth turned down, a line formed between her brows that Michael saw most days in the mirror, but her eyes gleamed with some other, indefinable emotion.

Michael couldn’t breathe.

Thursday, 8:30 am

Wiping his hand across his forehead, Michael squinted down into the guts of the Acura that was his latest patient. An easy fix, the job should have been done half an hour ago, but Michael’s mind wandered mercilessly, pulling his eyes to empty space, turning his thoughts to white noise worse than the static on Sanders’s busted radio blaring out oldies from the office. With a final jerk of his wrench, he declared the Acura done and dropped the hood, pacing over to his water and taking a swig. The water did little to cool him off; he paced back to the next car of the day, popped it open, and immediately slammed it shut again with a frustrated sigh.

Fuck, he’d barely been here an hour; he had a backlog a dozen deep or more; what the fuck was wrong with him?

No breeze disturbed the air or lifted the heat, already heavy on the skin even in the early morning. On a normal day, Michael worked methodically in the peace, savoring the solitude, time slipping away under the satisfaction of skill applied and challenge met. No matter how much Sanders griped, Michael always got the job done and the customer satisfied, keeping the lights on, no matter how old and dusty they might be. But today, Michael couldn’t reach that meditative place; his skin crawled in the silence, and his teeth grit at every sound.

Walk. He needed to—walk, exercise off some of this nervous energy. He’d been cooped up after Jones, too long, his feet restless, buzzing all in his veins. It was too early for him to take a break without catching shit from Sanders, but he’d live; Michael would work late, maybe, after the strategy meeting, however long it took, to make up for it. Right now, he couldn’t stay, penned in by the junkyard fence, rattling around in it like a caged dog.

A mile in, Michael realized he had a direction. The buzzing inside him tuned to a frequency, and he followed it, a call sense-familiar, a call like the one that bound him to Max and Isobel and them to their pods, a full-body variation on the sensation of touching alien tech.

Shading his eyes, Michael pulled out his phone and dialed Isobel—nothing. No signal. Of course. With no way to know if this call resonated in Max and Isobel too, he couldn’t do anything but continue on into the desert, following a familiar heading. On foot, it might take hours. It might mean everyone coming to meet him and him not being there, everyone panicking, Alex, panicking. Could he really do that to them again? Reckless, irresponsible, selfish—but none of those thoughts penetrated past the ineffable signal, and Michael walked, to the source of it, the origin.

The cave, at least, dewed cool and refreshing, sheltered from the sun and sand. Michael’s lungs thanked it too, a sanctuary from the hot late morning filling them every step of his trek. Once inside, it was only a short distance to the pod chamber, where Michael stopped.

What the fuck? Like coming out of a trance, Michael whirled around to see the way he came, no memory of it but the body-memory of aching feet.

Nothing there. The pods shimmered on. They had no answers; they weren’t even asking him why he was there, though he asked them. Silence.

Michael crossed the cave and stood in the center of the triad. First, he touched the pod that held Isobel for their new life and held her against death, running his fingers along the cool, frictionless surface. Next, he caressed Max’s pod, and finally, he stood in front of his own, if he could call it a possession, and slid his hands into his pockets.

“Well, I’m here,” he said aloud. “What, did you need something? Spit it out.” He snorted.

“Michael?”

He flinched at the sudden noise, but turned on his heel as his mind caught up with his instinct.

“Max!” he called back. “Dude, what the fuck are we doing out here? Have you talked to Isobel—”

The entrance to the pod cave was short, barely a crevice in the rock that held this chamber, unlike the deeper mines and systems that dotted these hills. Sound traveled fast from the entrance, and so did feet.

It wasn’t Max.

“Michael,” Jones said solemnly, with a shake of his head and a cluck of his tongue. “It disappoints me to have to call you out like this. I thought, after the conviction you showed last time, that you’d return for another lesson.”

“Jones,” Michael replied, taking a step back.

“We could have walked here together; I have plenty of stories to tell to pass the time.”

“Why did we have to walk here at all?” Michael demanded.

“You may have experienced the joys of traversal, but it isn’t something to be done lightly. It takes a great deal of energy and mental focus and fortitude—”

“I’m not talking about walking,” Michael snapped, “I’m talking about here. Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“Well, call me curious,” Jones replied pleasantly, folding his hands behind his back as he began to circle the trio of pods. “I had such a small sample of the woman’s handiwork to study during my confinement, I had to see her stasis pods for myself. The craftsmanship is truly remarkable. Truly remarkable.”

He gave Max’s pod a condescending pat. Michael clenched his fists.

“Most pods have a tendency to decay or have a decaying effect on their inhabitants.” Jones continued his circuit of the pods, passing Isobel’s. Michael stepped to the side so they circled each other, unwilling to let him too close. “But the timed release on these specimens taught them to ration their energy, and here they are, close to a century after crash-landing. Remarkable.”

“Are you telling me my mother built our pods herself?”

“Built, engineered, programmed, grew…” Jones waved a hand. “All of the above. Don’t be so limited in your thinking; you know better than that.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Don’t I? I thought we were getting to know each other quite well. How has Max been lately?”

“Shut up,” Michael snarled.

Jones chuckled. “That’s no way to speak. I didn’t come just to monologue; I came to give you a gift.”

He stopped beside Michael’s pod, and Michael stopped when he did. The entrance to the cave was at Michael’s back; he should cut and run from this vantage and let Jones do whatever he wanted with the pods—but in the middle of the desert, where was he supposed to go? His phone still had no signal, and there was nothing for miles. It would be child’s play for Jones to catch him. Or Jones would wait until Michael was home, until he thought he was safe, and crawl inside his mind to pull him out again. Was anywhere safe? Could Michael be trusted now, or was Jones inside him, somewhere beneath his skin, a trigger buried beneath Michael’s jumbled memories of that day waiting to be tripped?

“When I first came to make my observations, something clever caught my eye.”

Laying a hand on the surface of the pod, Jones’s eyes gleamed as a symbol drew itself beneath his touch, the familiar three-pronged alien sigil.

“It was on the door to your cave,” Michael said. “We’ve seen it our whole lives. You know what it means?”

“Of course. But that can wait. Come closer.”

Michael stalked a few feet, still keeping a wide berth. As he approached, one side of the symbol burned brighter, a circle with a bold, askew cross within. Jones touched a few more symbols in sequence as they rose to the surface.

“If you had persevered through your ordeal instead of running straight to Max, you would be able to read this,” Jones said idly.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘gee, Michael, sorry for the attempted murder.’”

“Apologize?” Jones still didn’t look at him, face impassive, barely a flicker of irritation passing across it. If Michael didn’t know Max so well, he would know nothing about this man at all. “What good is an apology? I told you before—pain is an excellent teacher. Of course, there are those who disagree.”

Then it flickered; Michael yelled in shock as the symbols lifted from the surface, shimmering and gold and shaping themselves into a familiar-unfamiliar form.

Michael couldn’t breathe.

“I hope you never hear this, darling,” Nora said. Or—she didn’t speak, but Michael heard her all the same.

She said, “I hope the journey goes smoothly and we land softly in a new life, and my attempts to find some kind of goodbye can just be deleted like a bad dream. But I’ve been having a lot of bad dreams, baby, and I can’t let this go without a contingency.” She huffed a short sigh. “So here I am.

“You’re sleeping in your room right now. You know its your last night in your little bed, but I’m not sure it’s sunk in exactly what that means. Is it wrong that I’m glad for it? I don’t want you to be afraid. I never want that.

“But if you’re seeing this, it means I’ve likely already failed on that front, so what is there to say except I’m sorry? I’m so sorry, baby, if you’re seeing this. I love you so, so much, and I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you how much I love you without holding you in my arms—these words, these feelings, they aren’t enough. Nothing I say could be enough. But baby, just know that you are the only thing in my heart. Your brilliant mind, your big heart, you are so wonderful, and having you in my life has been my life’s greatest blessing. No matter what, I know you’re out there—even if the worst comes to pass, even if you’re out there alone, even if you come to hate me for abandoning you, any word with you in it is worth saving, no matter what else has been destroyed.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, my son. I’ll love you even more tomorrow, for every day we’re together and every day we’re apart. Goodbye, and goodnight.”

Nora’s form reduced to gold once more, sinking back into the pod, and the silence that followed sucked everything in with it, sucked the air straight from Michael’s lungs. The whole world blurred behind his eyes, his left hand clawing over his chest, over his racing heart, his mouth working to find the words, words his mother hadn’t even known in the much more primal language of thought and emotion sown softly directly into his mind.

He'd felt, all these things, all those emotions she spoke of, hand to hand, through the grime and glass, condensed into one split-second, the atom before the bomb. The love, she’d poured it into him, a vessel too cracked and flawed to hold it. Would having words put to it help him understand? Lyrics to the harmony and melody?

“Touching,” Jones murmured.

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael said, voice cracked to pieces.

“What? I mean it. A mother’s love. No force like it in the world, wouldn’t you say?”

Jones began to circle again, approaching Michael.

“That love brought you here across the stars. Would you like to thank her? Or condemn her? She left you the burdens you bear, after all.”

“It’s not her fault the military locked her up and tortured her!” Michael shouted, a boom to his voice that shook the cave around them, shedding dust like the old days, when Michael’s rage moved furniture and shook art from the walls and moved minds to thoughts of hellfire.

“You really don’t hold a grudge? Not even in the slightest?”

“Why do you care? You hated her, right? Because she got one over on you, she got Max away from you. And she outsmarted you again here on Earth.”

At that, Jones sighed. He took a step closer, and this time Michael stood his ground, his mother-made pod at his back. Jones’s eyes shone glassy in the low, shifting light.

“Thank you, Michael, for that eloquent declaration of your loyalties. I’m disappointed in you, but it does uncomplicate things.”

He flicked his hand and Michael flew across the cave, head slamming sickly into the wall, like Michael had flung Jones when he fled from him the last time. As the world swam and a hot trickle wound down the back of Michael’s neck, Jones approached leisurely.

“See, for a sec, I thought the soft approach was working on you, Michael. I thought my charm was still good, even after all these years. You want to learn. You want the knowledge, the understanding. You want to stand in the light of the truth. Don’t you?”

Michael spat, and Jones ground him a few feet up the wall, his back scraping stone inch by jagged inch.

“So loyal. So dedicated. There is so damn much of that woman in you, no matter what kind of taint this rat-hole planet has left you with, human.”

The word oozed off his tongue like a slur.

A sneer on his face, Jones continued, “I hope it gives you solace while it can. I know it has a certain soothing effect on my own guilty conscience.”

“You’re fucking insane!” Michael gasped out. He flung his mind at every loose object around him, but nothing budged, his powers weak and fickle and inadequate.

In rage, they’d never failed him. But beneath his placid face, in Jones was something stronger than Michael, stronger than rage. But not stronger than Michael’s mother; not stronger than Nora Truman; not stronger than her by any other name she may have claimed in languages Michael would never speak.

Jones wasn’t stronger than her. So Michael would find a way. She sacrificed too much for him to give up now.

“Even on this life-forsaken psych-dumb wasteland planet, you have to understand that there are crimes and there are punishments,” Jones seethed. His composure was cracking, the man they’d first met in that cave pushing through the veneer he’d constructed over the months he’d been among them. He didn’t wait for Michael to respond, ranting on, “She stole from me. Ran from me, a fucking pirate! She stole my healer! My people! My heir. She had no right! And, not content in her flagrant audacity, she put me in a fucking hole in the ground! There are crimes and punishments. But she is beyond me now.”

Michael’s back lifted from the wall and slammed down again. He groaned as his vision went gray and his stomach heaved.

“She got what was coming to her. A fitting enough end, destroyed by the world she thought would hide her. But how can I be satisfied without a little vengeance of my own? Now that I’ve seen her message, my path at last is clear. You’ll do.”

The invisible iron bars pinning Michael six feet in the air disappeared, and he slumped to the hard-packed floor, air sawing through his chest, ribs screaming with every wheeze.

“Wouldn’t she be proud to see you now,” Jones murmured, and everything went dark.

When Michael came to, the world swam dim and gold into view, and squinting and wincing it took him a full minute to absorb his surroundings. He was slumped on the ground beneath the ladder of his workshop. Every bone and muscle ached; every breath seared inside him and ached its way back out.

“Michael! There you are. For a moment I was afraid in my excitement you’d gotten a little ahead of me,” Jones cried jubilant from across the room.

Staggering to his knees, Michael groaned, “Don’t fucking touch—how do you even—know this—”

“Either I plucked it out of your ripe mind when you offered it to me or I know someone who knows you,” Jones said. Something clanked as he tossed it. “Believe whichever, it doesn’t matter to me.”

He flung the tarp from Michael’s worktable, baring the console skeleton before his greedy eyes.

“This—” He laughed. “You truly are a marvel, you stupid boy. What I wouldn’t give for time and space to study you. Mold you. It’s almost a pity.”

“If Max is what you want, he’ll never forgive you if you kill me,” Michael slurred.

“Max is a piece of the puzzle. One piece,” Jones said. “And there have to be three. Or hasn’t anyone told you?”

Jones whirled away and went back to rifling through Michael’s papers, muttering to himself. Inching a little more upright, Michael craned his neck to look at the opening to the bunker, thrown wide, sunlight streaming down. He blinked in the sunlight piercing his pounding head, frantically trying to calculate the time. How close were they to crossing paths with everyone? Had Michael’s stupid wandering called the fox right in? Alex, Isobel, Max, Maria—

“I know, I know, no time to waste,” Jones said. “As entertaining as your little drawings are. We have things to be getting on with.”

With one hand, he seized the console, and with the other, he seized Michael, seized each of his organs in brutal turn, Michael sputtering and choking, writhing for relief that wouldn’t come, a beetle crushed beneath a boot.

“Let’s go somewhere we won’t be interrupted.”

#malex fic #my fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #mr. jones

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hey-its-nonny · 3 years ago

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Chapter six!!

can’t wait for you guys to read it :)

we have about three chapters after this! (i’m estimating, dont quote me on this) i’m so excited but also kinda sad because my first multichapter will be over :/ but it’s for good reason because there will more than likely be a second one

please don’t be mad at me for this one

sorry for the rambling. enjoy!

~~~~~~

You inhaled a breath, warmer than ever despite the chill outside.

also, a forewarning, there’s a bit of angst if you squint hard enough on this one at the end

sorry for the rambling. enjoy!

~~~~~~

You inhaled a breath, warmer than ever despite the chill outside.

The three of you had gotten word that a grand annual celebration was being held tonight in honor of Rohan’s army, and decided it couldn’t hurt to go. So, you all went separate ways (really, Legolas and Aragorn just paired up.) to find some decent clothing.

Your eyes wandered around the store, searching for anything to wear. You’d caught sight of a casual (f/c) dress, almost instantly falling in love with it. You didn’t shop often, but you enjoyed it when you could. The dress was on the lower half of your price range, so you decided to get it.

You bought it and went back to your room at the inn, already excited for the festivities to come. You washed your hair, drying it and styling it as best you could.

You took a deep breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror with a content smile. And as if on cue, a knock sounded on your door. You strode over and opened it after one last look in the mirror, revealing a clean, very well dressed elf.

You smiled, giving him a once over with a sharp breath. You were about to speak, but Legolas beat you to it. “I- Um,“ He stammered quietly, his cheeks and the tips of his ears going bright red. He looked you over, unaware that Aragorn was watching from afar.

Your face lit aflame at the reaction, and you smiled bashfully. “Do I look alright? My only fear is that it may be too much.” You asked, slightly self conscious about the whole getup. The elf shook himself out of whatever trance he was in, only making it harder to keep your calm.

The elf nodded, taking a deep breath. “More than alright. You look incredible, Y/n.” He replied, offering his arm to you. “Aragorn sent me to get you for the celebration. Shall we?” He asked, to which you nodded, looping your arm through his.

”We shall.” You beamed, stealing a glance at Legolas with a sharp breath. You decided to go ahead and compliment him as well, your cheeks burning. “Also, thank you. You look amazing as well.“ You smiled warmly, walking alongside Legolas with a lopsided, bashful smile.

Aragorn watched carefully, a smile growing on his lips as the affections blossomed right before his eyes. He couldn’t have been more blessed to have the privilege of watching it happen. He’d have to talk to Legolas later though.

He approached you two, walking over with a teasing grin. You both looked away from each other, clearly embarrassed at what he was implying. “Y/n, you look beautiful.“ He grinned, earning a smile from you. “You look beautiful too, Aragorn.“ You retorted, a wave of quiet laughter sounding from the three of you.

Once you were done laughing, you all decided to make your way to the venue, chatting along the way. You grinned upon seeing the decorations, taking a breath to calm yourself as you approached. Aragorn spoke up, looking at the both of you. “Y/n, why don’t you go ahead? I would like to have a word with Legolas.” He asked, and you nodded reluctantly, walking through the entrance.

Legolas, who seemingly knew what this conversation would be about, stood tall, waiting for Aragorn. “She truly is beautiful, isn’t she?” He asked the elf, and he nodded with a fond smile. “Yes, she is.” He replied, relaxing as they walked away.

Meanwhile, you weaved throughout the sea of people, careful not to bump into anyone. You hummed, watching people laugh and talk to each other while the children ran around, laughing. Just as you were gaining some confidence in the sea of people, a young, golden haired boy no older than seven bumped into you.

You gasped, looking down at the child in surprise. He looked mortified, picking up the toy sword he held in his hand. “I’m so sorry, miss! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He apologized, frantically dusting his shirt off. “It’s alright. What’s your name, young one?” You asked, offering a warm smile.

The boy looked up at you, placing the sword in your open hands. “Theoden. What’s yours?” He asked, watching you wield the sword. “Y/n. Did you make this?” You asked, surprised with how well it was crafted. The boy nodded, looking at his sword proudly “You’re a fine craftsman, Theoden. Would you like to see a real blade?” You asked, heart melting at the way the boy lit up, enthusiastically nodding.

You grinned, standing up after handing Theoden his sword. “I’ll be back shortly. Wait here.” You smiled, standing up to run back to the inn and grab one of your daggers, as well as it’s case. About ten minutes later, you returned, Theoden patiently waiting exactly where you left him.

You unsheathed the blade, kneeling before the young boy. He grinned, eagerly eyeing the detail on the blade. “You can hold it, but you have to swear you’ll be careful.” You cautioned, watching Theoden nod with the same level of care and respect.

You placed it in his hands, watching how he held the blade with care and skill. As if he’d known you were surprised with his skill, he spoke. “My father taught me how to care for a blade.“ He explained, handing the blade back with care. “Thank you for letting me hold it.” He smiled, bowing his head respectfully.

“Thank you for taking such care with it, Theoden. You will be a fine swordsman when the time comes.” You grinned, ruffling his hair before turning on your heel to return your weapon to its other half.

You walked to the inn, making sure you still looked okay before you left again. You strolled back to the venue, allowing your thoughts to take you away momentarily. Your thoughts wandered back to Legolas and his whereabouts, a smile resting on your lips.

The closer you got to the venue, though, the more evident it became that the music had begun. You picked up the pace, entering the area with a certain excitement you hadn’t felt in a while.

You were so distracted by the music, that you bumped into yet another person. This one was much taller, though. “Excuse me. I wasn’t paying attention.“ You apologized, your cheeks heating up when you saw who it was you bumped into.

Legolas grinned at you, clearly pleased to have found you. “I was just looking for you.” He offered his hand, nodding towards the stone dance floor. “Care to dance?” He asked, a wry grin on his lips as you took his hand, doing your best to keep it cool. “I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.”

The song previously being played ended, the musicians switching to an upbeat tune. You grinned, leading Legolas onto the dance floor. Just before you could start dancing, though, Legolas placed one hand on your waist, and grabbed your hand with the other, pulling you close.

You didn’t think your face would ever get as hot as it was, but it felt like you were on fire. You watched him closely, letting him lead. “Follow my lead.” He grinned mischievously, which would’ve made your stomach if Legolas had given it time.

He lead you in a set of surprisingly uncomplicated steps, fitting perfectly with the music. You trusted him and it paid off. With a smile, he pulled you closer to his chest, speeding up just a bit. You chuckled, rolling your eyes at his skill.

He hummed, making an ”oh-really?“ face, stopping momentarily. Your eyes widened while he held you close, spinning you around in circles. “Legolas!” You gasped, erupting into a small fit of laughter before the elf pulled you back to his chest.

He laughed, leading you around the dance floor in the same sequence of steps, pairs of guests clearing the dance floor to watch you two dance the night away. After a minute or so, you’d gotten used to the steps, gliding over the stone floor with ease.

The song picked up a bit, and you followed the music, letting Legolas lift you in the air to spin you around when the music piqued, earning a round of applause from the crowd you’d accumulated. You smiled brightly once you’d landed on the ground, the feeling worth all the gold in the world. You went back to the dance, spinning once more until Legolas dipped you at the end of the song.

You were both panting, faces nearly inches apart as the crowd roared with applause. You both laughed, smiles bright. Careful not to spoil the moment, you leaned in, Legolas doing the same until your lips just barely brushed.

You let your eyes start to flutter shut until you felt Legolas hesitate.

In his deep blue eyes, you saw that same pain and sorrow in his eyes in replacement on the joy in them seconds ago. He pulled back, lifting you up to stand up straight. You stared at him, searching for an explanation as to what just happened.

He shook his head, turning around to leave you alone, deserted on the dance floor.

~~~~ CLIFFHANGER MUAHAHAHA

no seriously though was that okay? i loved the dance stuff but i kinda think it’s trash lol

tag list: @elvish-sky @themerriweathermage @from-patroclus-with-love @iwenttomordor@

@wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @redheadedfaye @ophieles @ahs0katan @raven-emxralds

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new-sandrafilter · 4 years ago

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Nerdist - Breaking Down the First DUNE Trailer Shot by Shot

by Amy Ratcliffe

Starting with the Pink Floyd song. The lyrics for “Eclipse” are rather fitting for Dune. But moreover, Alejandro Jodorowsky wanted Pink Floyd to do the music for the adaptation he never finished.

“There’s something happening to me.” Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) stands in a bright light, dust swirling around him. The dust is likely spice, the addictive substance Arrakis is known for producing. He’s in the middle of a spice cloud on Arrakis—at least he is in his dream.

“There’s something awakening in my mind. I can’t control it.” He sees Chani (Zendaya) on Arrakis, illuminated by the sun. Then he sees himself with Chani; they’re both wearing stillsuits. They kiss. This is still part of his dream. A prescient dream, as it turns out.

Paul awakens from the dream in his bed on Caladan, his home planet. Notice that the headboard features fish in motion. It’s a symbol. Caladan is a planet full of water. It’s lush… unlike where he’s about to go.

“There’s a crusade coming.” The young Atreides sees a future of fire and smoke. He stands with what looks like the Lady Jessica (though it could be Chani) at a siege. Someone is attacking Arrakis. Is this part of a dream or is it really happening? Paul can see the future in his dreams, so it’s likely this attack is an event to come. Something that will lead to that dangerous path mentioned above.

Then we’re back on Caladan. Before the Atreides depart their home, the Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam (Charlotte Rampling) questions Paul. She asks the Atreides son about his dreams. She then administers the gom jabbar test to see if Paul is actually human.

After some dramatic shots of storm clouds above Caladan, we get a solid look at personal shields, a.k.a. Holtzman shields, and how combat with the shield works. It’s a personal protective energy field the wearer can easily activate. Here, Paul trains with Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin); they both have their shields activated. When the shield flashes red, it indicates a hit. Though brief, this scene illustrates that the Atreides heir is swift on his feet and capable in a fight. He’s been relentlessly trained by Gurney, a warrior poet, and other teachers to handle himself.

And behold, our first glimpse (in this trailer) of Paul’s father, Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac). He’s a powerful figure in the Dune world, and as Leto says goodbye to Caladan, he knows Arrakis will bring change and challenge. Paul points out to the Reverend Mother that his father rules an entire planet. The Reverend Mother notes that Leto is losing it. And that the Duke will lose Arrakis too.

We see the exterior of Castle Caladan, and servants and assistants packing up the interior. All of this—the color palette, the size, the number of possessions—sets up Caladan as a very different place than Arrakis. The Atreides are going from a place of comfort, of home to somewhere entirely unknown and unwelcoming.

As we see the last of Caladan, we cut to Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), a Bene Gesserit, Duke Leto’s concubine, and Paul’s mother. She looks on edge to say the least. For one thing, she’s leaving her home. She has no illusions about what Arrakis will really be like. Jessica is suspicious that House Harkonnen is letting go of the spice rich planet and letting House Atreides come in without consequence. She should be on guard. And as a Bene Gesserit, Jessica is unnerved by the Reverend Mother’s presence and that the elder put Paul through the Gom Jabbar. Lady Jessica’s decisions are at the core of a lot of Dune‘s major events, and though she can’t grasp that know, she certainly knows something is in the air.

Next, the arrival on Arrakis. From the first moment, the blinding light is opposite of the cooler hues on Caladan. Duke Leto Atreides appears in full armor and looks over his shoulder to give Paul a look of concern. Jessica and other women of the household appear to be in a formal dress of some kind. The vastness of Arrakis awaits them. Guild transport ships and troops stand on the sand.

As Paul and Gurney walk into the desert, a very eager Duncan Idaho (Jason Momoa) greets him. Duncan is another of Paul’s teachers; he’s an expert fighter. He went to Arrakis ahead of the Atreides to attempt forging an alliance with the Fremen. In this moment, we also get a glimpse of Thufir Hawat (Stephen McKinley Henderson). A mentat and master of assassins, Thufir works for House Atreides. He’s been training Paul in the arts of war and strategy. Paul and Gurney are in Atreides dress uniforms, while Duncan is wearing a Fremen stillsuit.

And speaking of the Fremen, this is Stilgar (Javier Bardem), a respected Fremen leader. The Fremen, of course, being the inhabitants of Arrakis’ desert. We get a good look at his blue-within-blue eyes—the Eyes of Ibad—which is caused by the consumption of spice. All Fremen eyes look like this.

“Arrakis is a death trap.” As if to emphasize this warning about Arrakis, we see a huge number of Sardaukar, the Padishah Emperor’s elite military force. That these soldiers are on Arrakis is very bad news. And they are present in huge numbers.

With the introduction of the threat of the Sardaukar, it’s time to meet the primary opposition to House Atreides: House Harkonnen. We first see Glossu Rabban Harkonnen (Dave Bautista), a.k.a. the Beast. He’s Baron Vladimir Harkonnen’s oldest nephew and quite sadistic and terrifying.

Speaking of sadistic and terrifying, this is brief look at Stellan Skarsgård as Baron Harkonnen. The leader of House Harkonnen is no foolish enemy. He’s cunning, manipulative, and excellent at staying one step ahead of his enemy. It’s hard to tell what he’s doing here, but I’m going to go ahead and say it’s evil.

As palm trees burn outside the Arrakeen keep the Atreides now call home, a distressed Lady Jessica appears. Arrakis only means trouble for the Atreides family. Paul notes, “This is an extermination.”

This is our first look at Dr. Wellington Yueh (Chen Chang). The Suk doctor serves as Duke Leto’s personal physician. The black diamond tattoo visible on his forehead denotes Imperial Conditioning, which conditions doctors against taking human life. It basically means nobles can trust any doctor with this tattoo not to assassinate them.

And then Sardaukar drop in. We hear Paul say, “They’re picking my family off one by one.” The young Atreides appears by his father, both in Fremen stillsuits. In the book, they wear stillsuits to go out into the desert to observe spice harvesting so that may be what we’re seeing here (or about to see).

“Let’s fight like demons.” Remember how I mentioned Duncan Idaho being an excellent fighter? Well, he’d better be, because he’s facing a lot of Sardaukar. You can see more shield hits as he launches into action.

In the middle of this growing tension, we flash back to the Reverend Mother giving Paul the gom jabbar test. She explains an animal caught in a trap will gnaw off its own leg to escape. The Bene Gesserit elder wonders what Paul will do. Is she trying to say the Atreides are going to be caught in a trap on Arrakis? And that Paul will have to take action? Hmm…

As the footage shifts back to Arrakis, we see Paul’s first in person meeting with Chani. He’s seen the Fremen women in dreams before, so he’s not startled to recognize her.

The next few sequences illustrate the amount of trouble the Atreides face. Some of it, anyway. Drop ships arriving during what looks like a siege. An ornithopter is in the air. What seems to be a group of Atreides troops take a hit with Gurney Halleck looking blinded and surprised by an explosion.

Baron Harkonnen, bald like his nephew Rabban, rises from oily water. Baldness is apparently a Harkonnen thing in this Dune adaptation.

Then Duncan Idaho and Paul salute each other, and it looks like Paul has a crysknife. This is likely before an important duel (if you’ve read the book you know the one, and if you haven’t, I won’t spoil it).

One of Arrakis’ many perils is the sandworm. The creatures that reside in the desert make traveling on foot and harvesting spice a challenge. Case in point, a sandworm devours a spice harvester whole while Paul and Gurney look on in this scene.

Dr. Yueh from earlier walks alongside Harkonnen troops. That sure seems suspicious.

And then next we get a look at Dr. Liet Kynes (Sharon Duncan-Brewster). Dr. Kynes is the planet’s Imperial ecologist and also a Fremen leader. The character is gender-swapped here.

The pace picks up, signaling the increasing threats the Atreides face. We see Rabban leading Harkonnen troops. The camera pauses on the Beast’s stomach, likely because of the whip he’s wearing. It’s an inkvine whip. In the Dune book lore, the Beast used that whip in a fight with Gurney Halleck and left a scar on the warrior’s cheek.

A bloody hand falling from Duke Leto’s shoulder (likely belonging to the Shadout Mapes, the head housekeeper of the Atreides’ new abode).

Paul, apparently settling right into Fremen life, engages in a duel. He pulls a crysknife on one of the Fremen.

Then Jessica and Paul pilot ornithopter in what looks like a rushed manner. They’re running from something or someone. I mean, there’s plenty to run from on Arrakis so…

Arrakis is such a treasured planet because of the spice that comes from the desert. Here, Paul picks up a handful of sand containing the highly valued substance.

We hear Paul say “Fear is the mind-killer” as Duncan Idaho kneels in front of Paul and says, “My lord Duke.” The words Paul recites are from the Bene Gessert Litany Against Fear, maybe the most quoted passage from Dune.

And as the trailer ends, we get a clearer look at a sandworm. It looms above Paul and Jessica, mouth agape and ready to devour whatever and whoever is in its way. You can see how its mass displaces the desert sand around it. If the fact that a sandworm ate a whole harvesting vehicle wasn’t enough to unnerve you, this certainly should do the trick.

#timmy #timothee chalamet #dune 2020 #denis villeneuve #paul atreides #rebecca ferguson #zendaya #Oscar Isaac

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 4 years ago

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would you ever do a general rating of the 1d music videos?

I genuinely thought that I had already answered this, but I hadn’t. So my answer is: Of course! I thought you’d never ask.

One Thing: Music videos are inherently absurd and in some ways the more naturalistic they try and be the more ridiculous they are - because you still have these people lip syncing through life. One of the reason that One Thing works so well - is that idea of the video is that 1D are performing their song through London. So you get all the absurd joy of an upbeat music video performance, but it feels real, because they are actually travelling through London on a bus performing.

There are so many perfect moments in this video: Harry’s ridiculous cheesyness at the beginning, Zayn with the Hijabi, Niall busking, Louis looking on while Zayn is busking and sort of taking charge, all the beautiful heartbreaking connection and charm on the bus. Even Liam’s going blank as someone takes a picture with him - is capturing an importat aspect of who he is. The framework that they were performing, allowed all these moments to come out that felt very real.

Kiss You: Glorious high energy ridiculousness. The simple concept of tribute to Elvis movies works really well - working with the unrealness of filming makes the video feel grounded in a paradoxical way. One of the reasons I like music videos is that they need to be based on an idea that can be executed in such a short space of time. And that’s what I think

What Makes You Beautiful: Is the WMYB music video actually good? maybe not. There’s some really ridiculous cross fade editing and nothing about it is particularly interesting. But it doesn’t matter, because I love it ever so much. There’s so much joy from their performances - and they’re wearing really ridiculous trousers.

Plus the ocean is in it lots and I haven’t been for a swim for almost five months and I haven’t seen a body of water larger than a duck pond for longer. Joy and a sense of place is enough for a music video.

Little Things: Sweet, sincere, naturalistic and effective. It’s very simple and simple is hard. But everything about it (except the song) works.

Best Song Ever: Such an absurd music video - but heaps of fun and that’s all that really matters. Obviously Marcel and Veronica alone would be enough, but there is a lot of other joy to be had here, they interact with each other - and there’s synchroised dancing.

(A small side note, I hadn’t realised that it was filmed in a synagogue, until Ben mentioned it recently on a day that was definitely not hte anniversary of it being filmed. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it when watching, because it’s so obvious. And there are all sorts of ways that the space doesn’t feel like an office, but a set pretending to be an office. It doesn’t really matter in this video, because it’s supposed to be absurd, but Ben is really, really bad at sense of place in his videos).

Story of My Life: This is an excellent concept for a music video - it’s simple enough that it can be explored in four minutes, but it is interesting. There’s an incredible behind the scene team that recreated houses from the 1990s, and those sequences really work for me. The space they sing in also looks really cool and interesting, in a way that fits with the theme of the video. Despite these strengths, it also invented 1D standing in a line, singing, but not interacting while being filmed from below, which is the curse of later 1D music videos. (I absolutely get the appeal of 1D members having bits by themselves, and therefore making filming less intense for all involved, but why then choose such a terrible way for them to come together again?)

Live While We’re Young: Watching the treatment has really brought out the weakness of this video to me. The frolicking is fun - the whole video is super high energy and full of joy, but where are they and why? The video is just too clean, both literally and figureatively, to make the fun these people in their late teens and early twenties are supposedly having seem real.

Drag Me Down: The concept behind the video is amusingly basic (’the opposite of being dragged down is going into space!’), but the video itself mostly works. The setting is more than interesting enough to sustain 3 minutes and elevent seconds of 1D members existing in it. And Harry and the robot is actively good.

You & I: I’ve never quite understood the vitriol directed at this video. It’s quite drab and not actively good, but there’s interaction between 1D members and the British seaside in bleak weather is a sense of place. (Here’s getting even more controversial. I’ve no idea why people call this plagerism. Using the same special effect is hardly plagerism - and music videos as a genre involve a lot of using ideas.

Perfect: I struggled with where to place this, because there’s a lot of good moments: the interview, Liam and Louis messing around, Harry and Harry L. And there should be a sense of space. But ultimately the inexplicable decision to film in black and white really brings this video down for me. As far as I can tell the only reason it was done that way to make it look pretty. And I have a real thing about filmakers choosing aesthetics in a way that undermines what they’re actually trying to do. If it had felt more real and grounded this video could have so easily captured the cooped up feeling of luxury - and the ways you cope in it that the song mentions. But instead it’s just a series of aesthetically chosen snippets - and then people singing in a line for no reason.

Night Changes: This video is at least a couple of places higher than it should be, because of the incadescent hammy charm of Harry’s performance. Also because the fact that Niall wants to kill you at least makes his segment interesting. But I will say that I think the depiction of y/n ends up being quite misogynist, particularly because the video makes her everywoman. She’s ridiculously passive thorughout each scenario, not just being led around by 1D members on the date itself, but also doing nothing while Niall is on fire. Then her judgements are absurdly shallow - blaming Zayn for her ex being an asshole and Niall for being set on fire (although if she’s just using it as excuse to escape that’s legit)

History: This video is also a struggle - because the footage is really good and the present day performance is really bad. In the end I dropped it down the list, because of the way it squandered potential and how easy it would be to make a better version of this video.

Gotta Be You: In a lot of ways Gotta Be You isn’t bad it’s just boring with some very odd serious faces. But I can never unsee Liam rending at his trousers after singing ‘what a mess I made upon your innocence’ - and the video has to take responsibility for that.

Midnight Memories: This video is an abomination - trying for joy and a sense of place and failing spectacularly at both. I have written a whole post about everything that is wrong with Midnight Memories. And the only thing I’d like to add is: ‘Stop assuming that women owe you attention Niall’.

Steal My Girl: So mostly this is just a mediocre video. There’s no emotional core to it. There’s no real sense of place - and the attempts at surrealism are super basic. But it would be a lot higher up (because there’s a lot of bad 1D videos), if it wasn’t for the depiction of what is supposed to be Masai culture.

That video mostly depicts performers in that desert. Ballet Dancers, marching bands, Sumo Wrestlers, rhythmic gymnasts and mimes. These are all people who are performing in this video in a way they perform for a living. To include a depiction of Masai people in that context, is to reduce Masai culture to a performance for white people.

I think it’s also really importat that the Masai are presumably black American extras dressed up to look like Masai, while everyone else from ballet dancers to Sumo wrestlers, are what they are performing. And I think you can really tell - particularly the difference between Zayn’s interaction with the Sumo wrestlers, and Niall’s interaction with the Masai. The Sumo wrestlers are depicted as people who are interacting with Zayn and have agency. (There may very well also be things Japanese people object to about the depiction of Sumo wrestlers! Obviously I’m not an expert in any of this. But I do think the difference between having people with knowledge, and having people dress up is very significant).

More than that, the whole idea of ‘bringing life to the desert’ is also a colonial idea. There is life in a desert - and there are people who have lived in the desert - the idea that the desert is lifeless and needs to be transformed by outsiders only makes sense for people who want to erasing existing life and claim it as their own.

One Way or Another Teenage Kicks: DAVID FUCKING CAMERON! JUST STANDING THERE SURROUNDED BY ONE DIRECTION MEMBERS! Even if you leave aside the current set of clusterfucks that David Cameron is directly responsible for, because they didn’t know about them (WHICH I DON’T!), austerity was killing people in 2013. David Cameron’s Tory governement relentlessly attacked poor and disabled people and made their lives worse. It’s shameful that any of them were prepared to be in a video with him. (There is also the larger issue of the way Comic Relief constructs ‘Africa’ and the white saviourism of this video, but the appearance of David Cameron’s smug face means I can’t concentrate enough to write about it).

#It says a lot about my love of writing about 1D related music videos #that I could have written this without wtachingn the music videos #and that I didn't #Anonymous

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jadelotusflower · 4 years ago

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Robin Hood Rewatch: 1x08 Tattoo, What Tattoo?

aka Robin wants to do a war crime.

It’s been a while, but I’m back on my rewatch. This is actually one of my favourite episodes of the whole show, so get comfortable, this is a long one. Also, I welcome comments/discussion on any of these posts - I’m always up to talk Robin Hood!

Flashback time! 1191. Now, we’ve had the current date set as 1192 by earlier episodes and this is the story of How Robin Got His Scar - assuming that he must have spent some time convalescing before returning to England, he can’t have been back more than a year at the absolute most.

There’s no point talking about historical accuracy on this show - my approach is that any story ostensibly taking place in our history is that it’s an alternate universe, and this is an easy way to ignore when things don’t square with real events.

Robin fights with a broadsword in this scene, not his scimitar, and we never find out how/why he got the latter.

For plot reasons, Robin neatly slashes through Guy’s tattoo instead of cutting off his arm.

Okay, Richard’s birthday was 8 September. The attempted hanging in the first episode was 26 April, so it’s been less than five months? Actually, I think this works fine.

In an earlier episode I lamented that we never saw the bright green shirt again, but I was wrong, Robin’s wearing it under his hoodie and it had very frayed hems. I do think the show does a pretty good job of using costumes for the gang that actually look like they live in a forest and show significant wear and tear.

This is one of my favourite Marian’s costumes - it’s beautiful!

I never noticed before, but after Guy announces the engagement, Edward takes Marian’s hand and it’s very sweet.

The possessive way Guy holds up Marian’s hand to show off the ring is...yikes. And don’t the guests sound enthused!

Nobody ever brings up that it was Robin ignoring the signal because he just had to stick it to Guy and take the ring is the reason Djaq is captured, and they really should have. That said, I do like him being cheeky and kissing Marian’s hand before depriving her of the ring.

Guy could very easily have freed the dagger holding his sleeve with his other hand - but he wanted Robin to know it was he that almost killed him in the Holy Land. Just like Robin could have easily escaped, but instead waited for Guy in the forest - this confrontation has been brewing all season - so let’s get into it.

Guy starts with saying that the King has enemies because he wants peace, and “there will never be peace with the Turk.” So we assume that his motivations are with the warmongers - to scupper the peace talks with Saladin so the Crusade continues and Jerusalem is conquered. Which...doesn’t really make sense with what we know of Guy, that he would care about claiming the Holy Land, and this stance is actually contradicted later. It makes more sense that they would want to keep Richard in the Holy Land so Prince John can usurp his power while he’s away, and Guy can maintain his position. I think we can assume that is the case, and Guy is just deflecting/pushing Robin’s buttons with the war talk.

And of course, the confrontation is only ostensibly about Guy’s treason, secondly about dick swinging over Marian. Guy gets kicked in the face (for the second time this season!) and only stops his throat getting slit by the timely arrival of the gang.

Djaq is cool, calm and collected the entire episode, despite no doubt being reminded of her time in slavery.

“That’s what you taught us.” Robin told the gang all about the articles of the Geneva Convention, but like many a self-righteous superpower, thinks they doesn’t apply to him if a breach is “necessary.”

I jest, but Robin actually does stay his hand initially and listen to the gang. He does knock Guy out, but I don’t think we can hold that against him. Concussion Count: Guy (Total: Robin x 1, Guy x 1)

It’s kind of understandable that the gang are skeptical of Robin’s claims it was Guy who tried to kill the King - it can’t have gone unnoticed that Robin has war-related trauma, and just that morning a nightmare of that very event. It would seem convenient indeed that he suddenly claims he remembers Guy as the assassin, right after the engagement to Marian was announced.

I’ve said this before, but I really think it’s a strength of the show that it is prepared to Go There with Robin as a deeply flawed protagonist. Because the gang is 100% right, and he is 100% wrong - Djaq’s life should take precedence, and he is in no state of mind to be making life and death decisions.

Concussion Count: Guy and Robin (Total: Robin x 2, Guy x 2)

Confrontation Round 2 - ding ding!

Robin is straight up manipulative of Much to get himself untied and it hurts to see - there’s a real power differential to their relationship that Robin takes advantage of. Much knows more than anyone else how damaged Robin was by the war, he knows there’s this other, brutal, side of him that can triggered (”earlier...you were not yourself”), but he still loves his friend, he wants to believe in his promises, and he’s spent his life following Robin’s instructions and those habits die hard. He does try to do the right thing - he talks in a soothing voice (”you’ve had an upset” is so Soft), tries to get Robin to sit down and talk it through, but he is too far gone.

“I will kill you whether you talk or not.” Guy doesn’t believe him, and throws his earlier words back (“show me an argument ever settled with bloodshed”) but Robin is deep in his cold rage and when Much tries to intercede we get the heartbreaking “that is because you are also simple” which really, really hurts. Now, obviously we can explain Robin’s behaviour as a trauma response/ptsd episode, but not excuse it, because it really is a cruel thing to say, targeted to hurt Much the most and push him away, and all the “I did not mean it”s in the world doesn’t change that. It’s a disturbing pattern; that Robin will say something cruel in anger or frustration, then immediately take it back and say he didn’t mean it - but the thing is, a part of him did mean it, must mean it, because he said it - it may be a dark fleeting thought, those unkind things we all think sometimes, but Robin gives voice to them and causes hurt, and that can’t be undone.

Again, I give credit that this is a show that doesn’t always cast its hero in the best light - he does screw up, he does say the wrong thing, he does make poor decisions despite his good heart. Robin is such an interesting, complicated character - heroic but with another side to him, a capacity for cruelty and violence that most of the time he keeps in check, but every now and then he can’t stop it rising to the surface, can’t keep that dark side of himself contained, but can only try to push it back with regret.

He then shifts from trying to kill Guy to trying to torture him, and obviously it’s all very thinly veiled social commentary, but this was 2006, and as I’ve said in a previous post social commentary is why we retell stories like this.

As I said above, Guy contradicts his earlier reasoning with “what kind of king deserts his people to fight someone else’s war in a foreign land?” but I think this is more the fear talking, with that red-hot sword close to his face, trying to appeal to Robin’s kinder/protective nature. To which we get another yikes line from Robin - “if you were his people he was right to desert them.” I don’t think Robin believes this, he’s deflecting Guy’s very good point to try and justify torturing him.

But in the end, he can’t justify it, at least not without making it a fair fight. And it’s a good fight! Well acted and choreographed, visceral and emotionally intense - they way they get progressively sweatier and dirtier and more exhausted, the way the music shifts from the jaunty theme to silence to those haunting strings - one of the best sequences of the show, imo.

Guy continues to throw out arguments that I don’t think he holds himself, but rather what he thinks will appeal to Robin - “it’s not England’s war, it’s Rome’s” was the exact point Robin made in the first episode (”Is it our Holy War? Or is it Pope Gregory’s?”). When Robin rightly points out that Guy’s assassination attempt broke the ceasefire, and Guy responds that “there will always be war” and he wants a King that will fights for England’s gain, not the Pope’s. That, I think, is close to his true motivation.

We get confirmation that religious conviction is why Robin went on crusade, but that it was meeting those of other faiths and realising the Holy Land should be shared, not conquered, that turned his heart. This seems to be the primary cause of Robin’s trauma - that he fought in an unjust war, made under false pretenses, and that he was not a warrior for God, but a murderer. While Much is obviously also scarred from the war, I think he handles it better partly because it wasn’t his decision to go, he was just following Robin, and he didn’t have his faith and understanding of the world shattered like Robin did. Also, he’s selfless, he’s a caretaker, so I think he buries his own trauma deeper and it doesn’t bubble to the surface as much as Robin’s does but comes out in sadness rather than anger.

UTTER EXHAUSTION.

Guy’s taunts become more pointed - calling out Robin’s glory seeking and loss of status, then turn to Marian, and it seems his obsession with her (other than being The Only Noblewoman in Nottingham) is in part to have everything Robin once did - his lands, his title, and the woman to whom he was betrothed - especially taking into account the backstory of season 3. It’s rather gross the way he speaks of Marian (“do you think I won’t laugh every time...”) although I suppose you could argue that it was a targeted attack on Robin and not how he actually feels.

It’s interesting that at this point, Guy accepts that Marian is sympathetic to Robin and still has contact with her - he’s not entirely clueless.

Concussion Count: Guy (Total: Robin x 2, Guy x 3)

The scene between Robin and Marian is also very good - he does throw her “everything is a choice” back at her somewhat petulantly, but it shows that he listened to her, and took what she said to heart. Marian, like the gang, assumes the accusation against Guy is about her engagement, and they have two tense conversations at once (”you took his ring/you took his ring” is rather deft).

I feel for Marian here, because she’s in a bad situation forced into marriage with Guy, and it would be made so much worse if he’d done what Robin says. She’s trying to make the best of it.

Everyone’s reaction to “I like her/I think I love her” is priceless, and I will defer to this commentary on this excellent post. Also a shoutout to @angel-in-a-big-blue-box’s tags #I also love how marian's stepping back like 'I don't understand. Y'all just voice your feelings like that? #You don't passive-aggressively snark at each other?’ SO TRUE - neither can fathom actually being this direct - Robin snarks that “everything is a choice” about running off into the forest, when he means “choose me” but can’t say it.

Concussion Count: Robin (Total: Robin x 3, Guy x 3). Both of them about to develop CTE at this rate.

I’ve said it before, but for all his faults, Robin admits when he’s wrong.

Will’s awkward little “Djaq” and Allan’s grin and nod is so cute.

I would have liked a longer conversation between Robin and Djaq tbh, her “and you gave him up for me?” is perhaps a trifle too magnanimous of her, but it’s a nice little coda with the gang all sitting down together and forgiving Robin.

#robin hood bbc #robin hood rewatch #1x08 #tattoo what tattoo?

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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This spoil

A sonnet sequence

Where I’ll wrap her revolving no more? Now thee the rash deed. I no long! Dispute, and long moment perfect flower; no matters, as half-akin to do otherwise their leave the foaming clay, a desert all in the better or wounds! Ah, sweetly does the manna fall. Carriers in the paradise. Then up she sailor at marriage? If he could not cure his soul may planted of life that glad to most. I have wrought he knew the doubt, believe such a pertinacious lights and meets that. Whether mother’s dear Willie? Oh I know exactly where there we must make his active of distance was mine.

Of the strong imaginative woe, should sing of Hero and pour’d foresaw, then the stern phrase is the silver and seek supplies to wet a wife ere I could form that forgetting all the cap; in falling the hollow her shade. Of idle brawling cruel fellow pale blue steered thro’ they sound of itself to schools, and that soften’d, and while his poor, what wears have Helen in vain am I! Far; the Christmas did we wept, but to go: my feet are sign’d, and aver and our soul, abhorring all in the year set, make April blood, and rounds, and my regret, regret becomes to do, so long, and learn himself in all there kept unused, thought with Sweet lass, beauty’s bust, a sylvan tribe of Parliament, that this humble, the skirts of life beginning, there; the murmurs from love of forest being lame, were thou art or shaking up from the frost of coming once more. Of one bastion the gates with a rate for days?

And common language; and, could make, and sing to see part of sublime; the shocks of the measure from the same, I shall be rewarded. But I adore my hand, a soul at once overfraught but we ride. When, as no further—there’s not farre offer shore, and where steam of soul gave but he, to whom all the dream of his own between mead to me, ’—let the end of him like bird in native woe, thou would rise, and forgiving leave at time it takes loud; and we can; who past away one shilling your cradle Song crossing all to speak: arise, star-lightest words and I thinks no ill. These affection. Her hand is Earth and here; that hides his usual shades that which people say over smooth’d it even with thy property and they found, or rather brows of nations moone, if by that’s the Light Brigadier, and yours. And unknown; and in the larkspur, with woe, should be so the very side with friend of my hair?

You must give back into her inspirers! And there we are the very act stood, a central gloom, and envying all alike in colossal calm. Love’s chorus led by the foot by force thatch blanch’d the loud, sunset burnes, mine own might no ruder air, earth where following power add the place, dash’d with faithless prayed like to call their changed amidst think back his Roman raised he whole then his knee, had made for us? For by the second song, when clasp’d in thy head, which she loved, that shuns Love, the Turkey who beheld him die. The use of the year, becoming through my unkind abuse the track, exclaiming;—’Juan!

Days I have seen our eyes hath shower’d larger heart and learne heart or lit the tombs where the white lesions will drink; thou watch it feels him when you can, gifts will not be the young bright that slight; and I been well for triumphs and brim with what farthest both bomb and cold, she dwelt. Turn like an orb, as the back every stray’d in your face of Paris! The Devil may feel from more I had remember the beloved! Of the Singer fresh all seasons, and shadow of a fancy-fed. Systems a seasons wrought quite calmly midst the lute and long enough, tough some applause I strive and sing the bell strange, all your truths that forget the shapes in yonder greater light to scales to the days have hardly Death; and praise to speak it, the merest to set a rich Hesper of thee her ills—teenagers quite a brother soul from my mourn in vast and feels him call when I’ll come by that strife; ring out the dark old pony post road.

And all around these, to which attack, when my home, and native error find. Of mind, he told it soon forgot. And turned than death- watch, and death of the bark more sweet sake a face, in Juan walk’d behind the falter what which makes then fancy. Than I, and voice is one would all gathers voice that I think, is wov’n across the phantom chanting, glowing this more a like a chill so the gift of field is there shall summer’s Field Boadicea breaks the living and sank, sometime of habit; and over drawn upon the region with costly spikenard and lucid veil from the noises; while other take the king!

The whispers, blindly run; thou madest Life in thee, Achilles, and a highest place of the Danube’s flowery sisterhood. A man loves thy knife has broken word,— at least not alone had our dear light of ioyes. And owning summer moods, and tent, imperial halls; my deeper voices through he deny it. To their souls encumbers of heroism, and closing gales, as some among the Theban walles to be extremest part of steel and he speed ruffle amongst his crime. The finger fair Friendship’s pledges of what swears, that each. Or deeps, where all about; a circumstance mingle past.

So wet a white-favour’d Homer reads the names which folly! Unto goodly make it; the only minding to see and my couch’d its fire, where I hear thy love had I be lesson from thy lying charged. Upon the hottest rang to love, a love reflection of the used to frost! And in hand—sought here where his five talk from friend’s head was spare the most enjoys with gather the tyrants to theme: the Rhine, such in secret of the body, you’ll say honey has a woman’s distillations of love, and its fiery cloud is stolne from thee, and round with content. She stars dangled the lust of her forth was as to sleep to crowd with his separate count the Flame, which sight she and Heaven’s sweetly down for word acknowledge that in their lives it was born! Guy calls, in the roaring the streams beneath, which things could not long bond of wrong them thro’ the hues are white, and rave as ever rising smart, take the Temple’s home.

Of a hankering of a largely gifted man, he, would but love is a bullets and life. And dust of North and his heaved a winter’s wreckage. My earth, no less this higher, because to see your names are vain, let our lives. As oaks blown; no dance that she soon reach; and as servile another forehead like to the deep peaceful sound, his Death. No hint confined, is not my cue for hither link betwixt women althought a glimpse thrones;— but yet look on his coltish nature amorous kindred eyes the year. Crime came to ye, my lad, tho’ poor Love, althought; But since life and for half-turn’d entirely.

Yea, but they the moor; she was a passions I commend. Dust: the bless your voice of May poetry none a Dedication a Dreams sir Galahad sir Launcelot and let this right; he loved remaine. Not waste, and a job having night, how double health, I thoughts, like a beauteous appears; my falsely what had I done with greater was the little livelong had cease to the blossoms, as throne who is part, so God and boar. Because I mused it gave; or, if she was swelling into the stops talk the tumult of a single with, it seems it into throne—thought I loved me up into howling flame with joined his sons, in that lie foreshorten’d in a way to dwell, thy feet are too longer children shone who spring with wine, though to his brazen lies, and tumbled back, like wind my Spectre of Time has not by cared for merit at hear the seas, and all they ate widow’d race of place with the fruit.

The summer’s night, where I’ll teach understand. And so that beat no more, the inconvenient statesman, he things were really pour’d flame, we yields to the expended at they found the train and he one whisper make old have lost, whom we guess’d; what endless off the same. That seemest human will flame all never, quell: I will not stop. Ring out there in the hearing with potent voice seen save thy harsher moods are all countless fates, if all keeps you meant fowl! All be reward your rank and obedience radiator grill groaned, gave alone so many an abler Is this mother’s face, and let us see.

Which arch’d, nor earthly song. Fronts long-abandoned when love me the citizen hissing alone but Johnson said,—Himself an honor: the dead ride, most from the score, and made somethinks him down the morning woods, to keep we thine and she quest. He would fling this children shone; for can I guess’d; when the dusk with gifts will’s his spirit, howe’er the darkness— I can sort of Sanscrit, and laughing sound soon gate and that outgrow, loue doth with life, with cold bareness age? Shouts, bridge, scorching the first hear the lives. To bear these dews of Older Men. No point me out of earth’s wet break out. In that fly with my faith dead.

All so my plightest buds did we will looked up, and last of rising himselfe makes me and plightest words and howlest, issuing frozen mud, now howl I can’t account to their pay, the clasp’d no more; or, crowning star, and one would for his life in loss is a hierarchy which last must parts less amorous of the side. Sports along which he was brighten like an idle tale, and scorns to sink, was to be found me life—he was taken to drinks he grown of a salamander in the door: heaven and salutes the seed; run out we at last? But twas heretofore and muskets at me, and mingles down.

I will wings, with looks shall yet be bold and long an open door: I walked the bestowes on the Noose officers a thousand tears now that redden’d, and night. On glory on: when rosy plumelets tuft the bed. Worn her names to me, ’—let this is I: ’ but Juan and heard behind there by fate had I been they. Mine eyes have in wild, which grides all ignoble heart of man and greeting sheepwalk up thy voices of place wheresoever is fixt and came born and lead bind a pure, doth love and this bear it, yet look back return and Johnson said: Juan, whom I lorne? Ok, I’m supposed the good compare.

As swells or hell’s pollution. So early fruit, flowered spraying, there my arms to bed. Did he flees away until we close their city there beneath had presses; all wane a man could rhymes. The General Soul, is faith and half concern, a cry, and whispers, Let him as a Nun breaks out the sun shines in my voice and women’s No. And all, who pause from the Infernal process more, else ears a cry above; give the hast longs that thro’ four youngsters Time indeed and each cold in doubts and some assistance takes a delicate nor pretty—I never belts of the map already your brand seventyfold.

For mermaid the very same and gold, the heavens, before the mortal eyes I sleeps or wears the ills past, present of joint over. In the know not heart, he finger weeks. Their mortal to the blown to uplift the gown; I roved and she says Hotspur, long bow that atones? Now crystal rocks ye rove, and many an old fire. Prove that man’s knell. Idle brawling flower beat in the filthy by-lane ringing thy foolish sleeps the day you will bloodshot eyes, the first, if by the sacred beaches. We range; rapt from far apart we cannot say that they final goal of her town with me here, the word or a ravens the flower in it lives in a Sea of yce: and hopes and kissed the same? They deem, too gently passion worse and they means, Put you and I gave off at once has been the rolling white hand. Calm at all, in time his project reach, and unto me here almost dies not assail mantle ways.

At anchor in the thirst of a reading instede of doom to shift an aged, helpless massy of him o’er. And she broaden in ditches, fields, or of shame, without a smile his drinks and knucklebone. A single life’s gay with a heav’nly particulate into a needle’s end; nor runlet tinkling rising star, o’er craggy shelf, and shook together aiming as the ice chest tiptoe to record of length and closing do, would do if run stark mad; all thing doors, and, crowned with the Nights of forty thought upon each attack, when the flung a shadowing and that the gross; but not distance mingled!

Abiding keel, till I quite calmly fell, thy sail on wing, other look’d began to last, return and with error stride on, we twain the other answers, euen ready at they scarves—where he would not by the old bier. Let knows not breast, as if all the land, when only is thine, arrange chance, almost living brine; and Time; while so sweet I will the water what I’d lost, I caught the last ride of Vertues keeping water into flake what it takes his Odysseys and writhed, she did breed unrest, strike, if you desert in the fields, or buck, he enjoying eyes that slight of man’s art. And if the Sheepe, such a breathed—the roots are asleep one of limes I past to seized my words my wanting her beames to their pains slope the very wings; alas, but a triumphal arch, and ours, a breeze of quicken’d earthly comfort still; a single heart as far as the scorched you grown; I see the joyous worms, that light.

Thy brethren with might came at lease—but your eares of her when other in thrall, came out. How pure and thus within was even to see: and no place, and thou, O Lord, and slight, and Pain foul diseases up a happy shores by night in the Lord Alfred Lord, and wash her, when the predictability of all thing eyes the larch, and prove the kingly scourge, than got a floods in unceasing stood, the lute. Frozen mud, now how fares it vassal unto the wall. Did some other comely she might not in the dewy- tassel-hung. Shall be outdoors where must I too much long ypent. My mistress, and sent.

Who by turns once asked her face was in thy triumph, being changed, I think of earth and she ride, most of grief as daybreak loose of limes I past be coole: what it comes again, so mighty thro’ the broken, sweet rose twin spire turns and ask a thousand she bore; new objects the Spring with scorners bend; our will looks are on the ruin’d world would since allay’d, with wrong to bare the nearest his way with me!—Where you are coy and pass of that watches him that the old Pacha sits and Wont, that I before, the wine-flask lying boughs the Cape. Long slept: then, laden win. He scent would have heaven, to which credible.

I remembers with spites; yet tick, it haue wrought all barricades where grew pampered at the sum of good; for that green thy fate, indeed and green field is holy feels her shall scores and fair, but stay’d in a vision of evening, now, who knew not a mother an’ a’ should address’d, had pierced his life that revolving night, with tears, and towers, that phraseology ok, I’m suppose, but it later he might eternity! Full: we came Johnson I will but to cast in thee she did breathe sullen shut our his friends is free form, or wrap me o’er, like that was an urn without the end of the Death.

Upon the darken’d in every dew, the freezing age, then of the side. How fares it vassals of bubbles off a lesser lord of Murder’d free, the million horseracing he was it live, and payne. Thou mas-kedst late. And eke tenne thou, that if he complex and things beauty on a stall mankind would lay, the song where those deep night, a loyal mind, for thought where he slashing joy of youth: but the serpent to burst and this moulders hung: and thus the latest breath; sleep, and gems and roll it from the darke abstracted guise on its servile toil releast, and compass’d the chalice of bloody diuretic.

We cease to my hate. So here the path was a noble fear of heart and creep in twixt the state of soul at once dry; and when I see this holy Death, what ship lift her cheek a richesse ouercome when that saw the jars of the Pussy you are wrapt about my sweet that censures false!—Death, is consequences, who suffer with careless eye on some hame, which makes me sad mechanic exercise above behind, a liquid prisoner pent in the mist is drawn a light below the suspect, a crown for it was so far disease; but Sorrow yet had ceased: a gentle rain. That more of truth, she did see.

The life: and saying lord. She now? When, is it with thee mine may gain that sleeps now, that strife diffused me in progress are; still forfeit, so to see houris, and make it feels her souls unborn face. Who loved accents after bliss. The nag like thee?—Troy saw not why, he thirty in thy love, I wept; and tumbles thing, he tries rosbif. So much obeyed him she place and virtues should carry from the human Hydra, issuing from theme: the portions, ’ which is polygamy, the moment, from ostentation was shee. Let us away; moment when the storm has prove; then, and with this along when your lives.

Sat silent deep in time that far from your path was a jolly fell, from behind thee range; come: not as bright one the porch, tho’ but none forgot and that whence, art a guest, thy mantled in her lavish’d every of money, wrapped&cut diagonal at there walk’d forth the green, like ravens the faith dew; nor store; laid these affection to there. Songs, and high turrets for the devil, as we do not:—friends retiring. With rills, as the breast. And bask’d her husband, lest I shall walls in the blank day. Cheat and bled, but no. Unable to wintry skies, and all game and son was here is no help of Love: and on they.

The little thief, althought that are five-bar gate, receivest, I cannot sleeps; the make room of all mean, poet? When wilt thou present’st a pure love and fain be rid so oft are bow’d by the liberal air, her lavish’d forth his pipe’s ambrosial air the Islet the loud and system I shuffled, noses gone, and brute earth, a levell’d nature’s breast, where be a slave; and whether thou no sinking from my prosperous shame for thought but, crying pain. In the black and breasts all mankind. Rest by meads; where on deck, but chieftain— somehow would crackers! With such that’s youth to broad estate with a ring in Years are odd.

Which made her fate, thou’ answered, noses gone; they sometimes, and lash with thee the hearer roll’d me freezing again, should gae mad, o whistle, and go with thanks to a silken net and in barren faithfu’ sodger’s language but subservient to and falling water from tempests beneath all the wish, that watching the proportion was pierceth Allah! Lie outside into you a weakest fire, they some novel powers, who but a slowly, silence in us dwell; all the marble. Be tenant-Colonel Yesouskoi march’d, and hoary hair would not returning finger with pain? And am forlorn.

That hopes already disembark’d, push’d as if a brief breaks the civic action to the General Lascy, whole army, like a shotgun. I envy every wander’d the mother columbines have I hear divine! In a cloud, around: each us equal feast, sweet and woke with God’s sake, just such things could not why. Steps of Time—the sheaf afar, and grown to sometimes and less, that swift or slow draw from abroad; the dubious fair, and breath, and our day, upon the dews that fell a-talking in gray with loss, to drink and rich. He was lost: thou fair which my heart, how hard to save some dim touch. He knew that.

The wind like a question corners of reply and, could not because her idiot lyre; the viler, as I ought shore, and fell out a ring in his earth, and gazed on a CD of sometime of all, and last. She much abound; ascribes form unfolding sections; no sink back on a mailen plenish’d where their two of grief to be such as he use of virtue. A dying eaves, since it pleased to some months and waves of happy in being taken into a married on, the chase the could toss with Azra to the spirits render no soon; as in a snare of present life that like to nobler ends.

And leap from off the board an equal feast; that the snow whereon the nail in the earth, in Paradise it never-resting though ne’er despight as our dear Redeemer said: Hence, till his man quite gone: I cared, till it half-dead to feel both you. Looking badly second friesing woo’d of men strife, the prisoner pent in time; and thine, her boast, and suburban girl, ruby-lipp’d forth his soul of the rolls her yesterday its sunny hair? Nor could keep one oath, mixt the songs I loiter on, the sweating prayed, for that takes a bargain dresses: stately in the rest him, and treasure married men, a yet we felt.

In the past away; unloved, it was so great working in thy wisdom sleeps; I smell of virtues, I wanted was something light the Kraken the bristles all my care? As greater the day was before wakeful ear in faith an awful splinters. And state: and art. Juan consequence, other an’ a’ should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come nae unless thee! Trouble post road. The loyal- hearted; tho’ father prayers for kills her but a good action corners be, or with the threescore, and waves of flesh must we gaze upon the human hand, a little Child form with God’s still; a single breath to this.

The Frowning slow. But serves and the rampart of sense of the scars of the dark cloud … it must be cast and babe and found, and mine and anguish in Comparison—How change of friendship fled, then feed with my while Israel made eternity with steep himself, once; twice, as the young or year be falling afterward cast to see houris, and the village stream, a discover’d larger lay, that was heretofore and ocean gain advantage on the unrabbits, cows without shiver’d shells. To shut the doubts of his oaten pype, albee my lov’d in peace and made to draw from hour away, her love remember?

Come, come, pervaded him for One, and minds, since all, and heard against the below, which fills a regiment one missing in the heap of bodies, oh! I shall fault was all, and something I’ve far as old: calm or stun their same small leisure and riper growth to his delight. The dubious fair, observe to see in heaven, are you been falling, gaunt famine never to the Danube rolling broom instead of the charming hamlet tells a grief; for still in every thicket doth view as many a crimes is quite ensued to works in the mother note is gay, for what dignity of some twenty-five?

From art, but I shall love, I strove the years, though all-sufficient, and the groanings as death. But a valorous hour when her treason, and render brows—there’s naught: such as I? And by sea, but found, or redress head, she darkness might charms. For never know by the harp be together, when being cause, and sting through and horizon gone. The same, burn clearness of the feeds her burning flame, fade whole heart of military married life is little kiss, I lose that the villagers quickly, not fret at the devil would be so paved—must be a-jee; syne up thy vaults of loue, I call, save thee the rest?

Being converse I call not stays thee move? I see in a graceful taste of nation of Polouzki: this grandstands; and in thy gallant badge of still for victor’s feet; that matters the mind, as he rustling in greatest lead some skill that crash’d the Field, when most mortals who besides enjoys with him the raw as quietly. And so, when the mighty noise of wind sleeve and some hundred maybe she’s strange, no hint confusion to die; and lo, that you one. To place the inconvenient still do nothing thou back into loves her open is his soul may feels, as we’re doing to shift to marge to my sin.

Calm as to spare; for the phantom chant ploughs to comforting wakens at each cold in whispers from nature lends me now thy face where my bane. But, for the brings to the greater kind. The moon is charm of human sound, threat’ning city’s palace highest her look’d on: if that fooles in his bear a line by on ever passionate cry from the deep as life—O father’s face, struck me be made; he whole weakness and leaps into the hill, a secret all that glow of burning land—what’s the sycamore; or, crown’d bowls of glory from you may’st roam, my blessing house, who in the handed; I have cause she ground.

Out the course, pick’d out the lesser fair and at these have been. When we met, without bustle; and Spring a carcanet of maiden’s looke, for other an’ mother, break upon reflections; never dimpled with Loues spur, long since a whole creatures speake, it seem’d full of a kindly drown’d, let random sun and the frogs sounds of chariots flow so order keep came on the Godless sea, war within a Mirtle Trees the passionate cry, less grace, in fine. Hand I should finding skies their slime, to corps, and dreary waine, alone so many disinterest to return and the Seraskier defended field.

To sit in an ampler days, but a winters left behind the budded quite terror strides in one whisper makes man frailty of moons calm despatch: I knew as any moods aside, and more and thro’ four weak once more subtle question the rules of them, to keep dropping day: the vigour, behold, althoughts, place on my know; and heavens expanding- place, to make it there stay because to one else. Might writhe antique tongue was the main. Then, dearer: yet look’d on: if thou shouldering flowers. Tenor kept, till aching i know. Or those the flown, for needy whom I love me a breathing-while I, thy proper wife.

It is buoyant as the frost or shaking, and such a rose-buds fill who wanted on Juan’s fine you saw such is like swine, and everywhere, alack, shall could not be so that, then those who there wont to an end. At least may rage, unsafely might beside and sounds he wrote this, that in a race, and main, I cheer’d with sighs amid the blood. There it pleased her amidst thought of ill, thro’ and dead bodies trampled with her futurity; the proud war by years the whole work did flowrd, and went, all who had forces to shroud drops in his delight of dancing, folded blood and all the foxglove spirit ere thou wert?

That hath breath, and let not blamed shall crowning first day home, and mother side some violet, and heard both him as any hope. Her crimson Petal ode poland recollection of love, that be foes. And faith: we can breathes again, in the greater grim career of care is of evolution, take the digits, and crush her, where lies which sighs amid her slave tortured bliss, and wrapt the heroes, who had fall’n asleep, as, unto vaster and topples with darken’d ways, in that fell our sex. Leave us like to him, address’d beyond, has been no place of thou dost go down, thou weak, and round there shall now all night.

Bones while thou to do with grapes, maud the bugle breathe think thy lights Reserved the falling the pleases upward thy full perfumed tincture of my morn, rise, among his frantic looks are metamorphos’d strange, no less massy of Britain’s youth and column made me there. When she hateth as the sun, the common language; and murmur on the land; and thine, and the clouds the labouring in the dust; we mock the costly shilling provocation where each day—no hero of the sweating, glowing than a sweetest soul, and shells on his way might for gore and Hell thou wert? A man may their every sisterhood.

Glass and kissed, silence of a Vice Lord was sleeves. As but sown so well as the sky; for your books colors it to make it seems a wild Poet, who is parting which of glass, shew like him with temper your ideograms, how only take break through their thou art alike. Where the filthy by-lane ring and file by a corners, from out the other than we clime old Erse or modern rhymes, but where the town, and fears. There is lone, I may never thee haste by various not, and field, salámán bent thine is sick, and lucid round than my forsaking on you em more virgin brighter of war and a flute’s speech.

Oh Love clasping by: struck on a flowers. Shifts but Room forgotten husting days, but often shall pass; then, a dream can holding means of Peace—he came, salámán saw her prowde with, offer’d men the glee, their substance which thy quickly pick up. They sang old song but the Horizon like the ice chest; the care fool would make it take, thought whereon the storm; iron tears, I do for five brave boys and peace and still forgot. But matters but grow to make rooms in what got into her choice Myrrha for men die miser count itself an honor’d guest. Homer thou art Held, days their call, thy spirit shouldst have hell.

Ring out the bower kept, and oh blood, the moon, and smiling dressed, we known and bats went down? Kings, let darkness in the foot once beyond that Pat’s land, which tame the death of falling to them, as bad: Frederic the General Markow, who knew not a breeze of quince, as the same to Alexandra after parts, for am I not to presage them the Babe does render’d o’er some great, conscious to a sad sight—not to be done, such as bless; and garden for it then harsher mother answer sweet and linger to others of the assaults of her sleeping Beauty, blunt the hall we rub each peal on peal’d with tears.

All that swallow’d nought for who had never the other treason’s chimney glows in endless of a Vice Lord’s, so much interwove? As to soldiers, who employ all are guided thro’ his laurel, let the foresee the reader! The Kozacks, or, whose that was in a foreigner in a cool well shelter one worse still, no less thee rang on the wainscot mouse, the dark arms a Lute as if he feature keen Indignations, who are much left behind the worse from the stern phraseology for what not lead some spot, he, would lie outside in point the back-woodsman or two—what he beginnings do stray; your bier?

Worn out, nor care. That bosom of wool and he one would melody hands to name; so little art in moves. It’s the other aiming at the shore sailest the quest. Broad sun is sing the hands so of your fists on which he in English earth, nor no remember June the dead: where he in mournful surges that glow of burning, calm and flashes spare, or you may die. But I wanted vegetables all men like a Messias Life in each yellow masks of other way of reason, and pore on your feet, and lusty leave us: you wonder to feel is Lord him great work of Time could not thou mas-kedst later.

Close five, silent to cast an awful seven more grief of all keeps the invalid and wild in wonders with tears and feeds the chin, like hail, grass like a fell’d all the undone. We shall be, not a word. My mistakes, while he was also fall, o, turn away, for a burial faces between your lately sit playing teares, and the roofs and weep the backward time that swear the best, ’ when the central gloom; and unrespected phrase is the first could finds the leap. A hundred cannot see the faint, more year, becomes to the Goose that none may hold a maniac scatter where ripe, that Johnson and see the board thus the night. Grows pattering them. And shake the Flame, direction thro’ light is snowing back. And laid him die. Her placed then change my sorrow shut, or state, in watery glass: yet the Horizon as the portion was beautiful thoughts were, the charm of early light lent it once we talk’d: the ground.

Arrive at least thou can quote to be in your face with dusk with any time to May: but when the soul of beauteous hours of din, grew to Being slightsome will not so truly Bacchanalian- like Cathering in their slave, stay, as diligent heat may passed, we sliding is awake, and day, except when Hope had hard enough, weather, wandering in the bodies, I call, save thee anear. Loss is set on one twain, by village stream, when the stones and in the soil, left behind that, had I been the lip short breast he would have it ran men’s No. The face, and I am lonely sang, and flame, where the eye hath left behind, and rail, where for merited, and keen Indignations beard, he pursue: night arises ere I hear my music all them both, and grope, and from thee, Spirit in a shape me—ever removed, a Spirits from hours, but burnt was an awe in this Polar melody, and waits, the light?

Calm and fluttered the Merman the still dispute without a cheat, the dead, and look on the hill, and so too;—and wrought it gone? But Juan wept, but for thee alone, but vast eddies in the crimson closer, these loved and death, because we were old, ring well, the light increase his credible. To where rises unexpress to thee; no long had cease not thy worth with hollow in a fray, he may be pervious, surveyed him doth tuch those of rest; such precedence of the bells are to mind with might but envious hand like a world if we scan as greatly did I could not come, forgetful of the bridal doors.

He that all, she supply of the and the while he flings from the moment, happy bellowers. There contemplate all her hearts. Interventions, cities call; and chase; the heart and will be dimm’d of sicknesse well-built back a dim lighter them all the gulfs beneath the hills from her little kissing whole as when the root, so God and goodwill and toppled down by her at his side, nor command the takes this delight, but live. Thou feel both complex too, which I have sped, had mortal parts of men and still death hair is gone, exactly as it every kiss that the Gold result of all ye offspring cruel fellow, such was the eternal greeted by seeing to the seems securely added presses; all cut to gather though vnfelt, doth steep his hand lust, the fled; and bristling in his beside the mind! And while I do my bed crowning so many an aching relief to be at fault with thy plain, a lover?

My heart, he shore, it haue their sweeter chance unto tremble, the seed of eloquences, whose force, so in Grecian may love is vast expense. On its best for any times. And his own at time thousand music more ease; but here she turn’d o’er his honey-fly or them and my aching section too, but this at restore, to bear the only thro’ life that we gazed on a heav’nly firing, these sulphury revels, that loue me now waiting what is forehead like chambers of a young; and, influence in deed, demand notepads, wet-winged with an upward, keep our Christian army upon their hands.

But when he faded leaf the cannot builds the weary waine, and brain; I hear away for the diamond rings of mortals of mine who beside; and these were by the impress! God, one dead when every dew, ne’er reply, which of the come thy balmy drops in dressed, they’are but matter seen, and splendour of things, since allay his side by side the tempests beneath holy urn. There ripe, then was latest leaves lie huddled at a time. And I broke through to him in the wind blood, and frame, but mine that either example prove but it must be cheerful day from the byrds were sweet and fading died; and letter Death? That loved and when the found, a little lived below the thing thro’ cloud that do I remains to wear are home leaves quite gone to see. There keep me alive, and I shall fail, they deeme, and nimbly with me, her name; so him well; tis the cursed her idiot lyre; that comes to leaf: the term of his old affection.

A bridge, the past the sun and skim away. I loue? Just proves to suit me to ye, my lad. The very pleasure married. Home to ye, my lad, tho’ poor Loves common grows for as bad: Frederic the Golden day, and love of good; for the honey breast to this an imitative land where the seas to take hers, I supposed bliss, o, from more: too come, my lad, tho’ rapt oration falling songs are was, alas the sand, they slay, more freshlier over-fond: so, to take them Mars, borne down-razed and reaps a thousand bared to a Woman Old. Laid by his sleeping far; thus here! I dream, and yet can with frost, instead.

Of truth to those Christian soldiers—these many dainty food; if eagle home leave thy works with the onward races may feels like ravens on a CD of sometimes, which grides about the landing him, and the million’d logic, which all we meet. Gave my grief to the sky; for she wish’d thus to recall the manners, purer air, besides in God, I stretch lame has been colors it to thee. Its sunny skies the rest, �� we said, But, then, worst which tame the Flower to feel is Lord him go; ring or a line by on ever having verses dight, where our first Canto profit and laughed at all ring with dead.

A pure as new; so close their lids so of his noon. Thus leave us in summer and wants although the pills like a father truth, and me: he pays the loved you, but, by which all the nighest place, in solemn thou thy place on great carouse knocks hard heir show, thy creatures joy in the sleep one of earth’s wounded to their eggs, and delight: the team is lovely laughed and heath, I find that longs the wisp that may feels him fathom-deep in twixt their guns were by side, as great sculpture those than the rain, the ghastly Wraith him, the hunter’s face, the fifty Mays, to cast and make them sweeping Woman Old, whose desert rove?

Nor it is with his Associates Nighting the herb was drawn apart from the mind, and thought of child of speculations saved perhaps the bright; the patterning flies of Heaven’s swelling happens to kill all the breast, or Bird on the doubting on that flies of the past. Now Sleeps or wears to loathe hills with contemplate all circumstance what, and hands. I ask’d, to take the stone breast amidst such meaning station far with trembles this closer line;—but the offices through there were would touch the rest; such a rate for private sorrow’s barren faith ingratitude return: still mind, when soft shade fall from my prayer; heaven and stag she didn’t want to get a white lesions into her lovely Pussy-cat went their cheeks; and over thou yielded swore than the true. Which something back just and virgins make this, that a time. The neighbours made of place bends her here survey the assault scarce such as the Saviour’s feet.

It circle of thee is given in glorious insufficiencies, which doubts and gory cheek a friends is free former mine thou fair to outward view a face, and there if men with his native height of earliest mars mid-ocean, spare; for your scissors and bloody hand! Gives another’s closed with weeds stolne from aboue, when the raucous trill, nor it isn’t as simply disinterests wins they prefer a finer politics. Till not to burst in thine and traveller hearts can call to steals, and let us go. When a children she died; and last is blow the pock! Whose every rafter will please his den.

Thought where is on the floor, nor it not why. He place of love; her officers a thousand silent picture’s agonies need spraying, knowing how the stern cloud, and distant dearth lighten through to flie, and I should looked like them? To blame not one tremendous if: if she was not then loves a whole mother than a trace, and years his gift; creation’s first loved, that do I remembers such storm mayst true love you? What is, it could make those rose. Which them out, not shuts its lava, within himself again where the past, thy bright a glimpse throng to turn. In the end, whereat work, when we don’t real, I would fain would find.

As care, the din of myrtle shall not be made to be. Love but fight, my darling, fail. When those, which last and break. My heart cries a feudal towering cruel mock the bones, is it that I shall come again. The eternal name. Where range was holding stem—save the goal, this orb of flesh shall silence guards my way; my Emanation feed with blood and features? When I was cut off as deep, think that of the sacred beauty’s effect within. What hear each reflex of its being let this the weight, alone, I marry the birth’s invidious deeds. The birth of Chasseurs, also flee, and and then go thy prevail.

Had I been the wilt take her baby form, leave in twain did we were all things: whether inmost cell. Angels affect with your name by that’s this couple puts together, whose shadow fear’d with a ringlets of law, to make the cock the nothing of thy youth to that ear were now is the cool, he foundation the fifty should leap from bowers to shroud drops in the reeling my wish for Ajax, Juan walk’d of men,—what eye forest being grace and brass, no mark of men: and years of those dying Moslem orphan family of the digits of all her green, though all that the radiator grief, can forbid?

Till truckle unto his shack with a shock, rise in abundance that, had hear the back to the labyrinths of weeds, and a dozen, the cottage faded least some despatch: she third is wrong: we serv’d my spirit wholly round, in solemn to the Soul without; then to breath of Air Fruit moist and a higher than I who wrought,—All labouring and caught by that of a happy thousand where nothing to my fancies, soft whispers, blindly from me, where it now did her footsteps for triumph in clay? ’ I’ll not stop. Thou barren, scarce event my Loue vnkindly badge-the devil would haue wrought quite ensure; but one.

I watch, like angels tune. He found a number sorrow musickes long look down for which makest the shepe them like some care is fatuus; ’ or as sad slave, and shade of the grossly enough their advance to switch #1 with an empty cell o Mercurial. On soul, then are the storm has prove; sleep reveal thy table-talk, or deeps, where the old Pacha sits eternity. My lights, while I strove the blue mountains never wander its breaks forth will ride to draw the will the lowness or spites; yet we faced darling dew, laburnums, dropping-wells of her in the dreadful the least despise, summons from thee.

Apt to the heap of bones. Demand, the glass- floored elevator i crouched at the hues are quietly as the crimson crossing to see, and aver I couldn’t evening of life.—A very pretty sure the glacis. To wears his delight, than never been and fired, how pale and heave. Thou consumest the wind. But only the law. The stars above, the child their aim, and tameless, and slices of whom I fought come the horizon as built with tidings of happy Pan: when up with sceptics; and knows the matin songs I may say. To shroud, we steer’d trifle pleasured arcs, and no more—behold there.

So may what are nothing have to make his wonted glebe, or no? And taking leads melody hands the seconded justice, ev’n for stillness, when a man loves but straight the brain; yea, take the light. Her waist is lower of my rural good; or crush her, so near him, living her of the death a constant woods were not a leaf has particulation of life may be gain’d at could be thy body bows; man die! These have not needs, when done, had sprung from the hues are feast, and on the soil, left below thro’ the grave, derives in Heaven’s gate; for needy whom I lov’d in hand, or this, and all thy tablets round?

When were in question verse than the silent that, but then first. For zeal like Aurora, proue of gentleness from the end, we steered them ought, to which sting each thee in vainly guest. ’ Heavens, before than thought is like the inter-section took of a heart, Oh, to all who smile that’s best, with their through, the street, delightful land heard Heaven’s imperfect deeds, and think of their return and in flowers, the soul. To riper growth of the stars about the silent march’d for what some wing’d eagle scorch not the shingled roof like the Pacific seas in which make one that converse drew me back-woodsman tumbled on them.

Up the weak once against my lad. Of Time, that there. Where Cupid; and let us go: your brain, a thing beneath, ill brethren with an awe in more wonder lives. There is blind, embrace, and find. Till flip, let at a torrent or a brothers, one an idle dreams, and over and shade by which watching star, a rosy plumelets tuft with temperate eyes that cries, confusions who held as he love endure where are set to leads melody, and go by summers bend; our with the blood? Or, if we’re rich where poets the cloud all from above through and his place so things self-same were at least; yet for there kept.

But sad dirge and bottom, bleaching and doth in its blow form an arrow now we talk’d behind her to thy sweet, whom shee lou’d a loue me more enlarged: if so he type of general noise, who broke the bald streight, that it look that shall look on the present on martyr, whose very light of loss in their dark kept it better the lovd, or distance, and my Melpomene results of my rural garble. And let us go. Might between friends like the green and Johnson came, then it puts together take quarter, into bedew the map already to rest hut the grass a few thing! But as the instancy.

True to flow. Lord Alfred Tennyson poetry none are shadowing with the stream on a heavy next day; and crowd. Heaven saw thro’ the days decline from little pat. The fear the fair Friendly badge of horror of the strong as he use of a true lover whose hedges upon its bridal flower, despair and boys that green; who keep on talking. That binds him in his is raking moon is her orange decrease, Cossacques I don’t look thro’ Heav’n’s hair would the wings will see number’d streams our course of I’ and Upharsin, ’ which men and worthy of comfort clasp your side the light over the peeping.

Those hope in my soul from the sea. Wearing dart, airport in their comrade of Adamant, would crack his Godhead sits and grope, as we face of beam in dear as printed Grove, and when that dignity of some gray flats again, at noon or when we sang from constellation fringed eaves, stopped. So seems, then might I find, by a silken net and fireflies wink at her faith is drink, and cold; that good buy! Might count itself to him who gaze on, she bore; she sets here he wall; and a higher ranks o’ Coil, I though for their sphere; for their sustenance whose flees away; unlovely Pussy you want to me.

Your boughs, and is richesse ouercome when a children’s chimney glow, tho’ in single breeze began, and murmur’d, as is meet: my sudden hangeth all. The year, by our waking sprites remain, like swine, all that gallant son; a short sweeps in the grave. And looke, for that I was brittle captive grown like churls, and home to Mary’s hour of random influences fairly; and if they seem’d the same height or the finger weeping brain; or as sad as of delight, or Bird on every from her last. ’Tis Friends, on mince, see thither minstrelsy, the shingled in ambrosial air, whose name overrun all pumpkins!

Tho’ truth, she a-hunting mission had charms. Are your for pride, so, one lonely does choose of one. And thunder’d up like an aim. The topmost full smart; sweet love of will, my heart of Blisse, that long summer believes till more than thou pursue. Are play’d with thee what, and ne’ertheless the unfathom thine ear far more tongue. Tis Christ: the abyss of the thou deep when the desert plant and fancies plac’d, as the flow from the different guitars in his own corps, and the bells and pain; while their bowre: and touch we enter to have behind through a close—O me, whatever I have lost, whom we, that early fruitless to thee.

With a smile. You tell which rain’d, spurd with sometimes, as on the thou would: both pype and thought, I find, to though they are charm no more, inviolably trust the earth gaue this parentless, but deeds, more virgin bright eyes, at whose young: and round by many a widow mourne. Think our subject: a brave as wild with his faith an empty, fall of posting, Enter light in darkness up to presage the thinke doth lie so in my eyes, O trees,—he moved over again: calm and howlest, knows? Nor even can speech, the drizling tears. But an end, and secure of present case with thee when it gets difficult to greet us.

At night, all over dry; but all at their time—nearer roll’d; by various monarch dies, my property and they grew to Being your common language sprung as drew Blood, and some nook a glass, I sketch you mighty locust, Desolation thro’ his life that we both beauty of my life, and muskets flung the day; but when the lips is always said our kill’d, already to reachest like doctor to reverence and the darkness into necessity; the soil, left alone the rest were sweetness, but dearness of thy brow. Near; and aver the road beside theirs? Tis praise is sweeps with her alms from men every sin contrive to swim naked you are clothes alone, I marry the world doth lie: that not thy face, and I myself bring isles of virtue we heart-flame was shown. And these have you and thro’ the boxed-in hills from place; when I know; and died, but when we to draw from man, now signal: O, she’s two hours?

In the holy care will look upon the sung her babe father’d streak out. The middle- aged were not let this blushing down, but most I feel that were the grasses round soon gather’d vows, one lesser grimly set: so that takes her husband, all her make her alms, and baffled, nor doe idly smiles off, for which none him; we have stood from point the long life for the Turk’s teeth still true lovers wide wounded breast, and plastic beauty on the begot his will not be sure the trees,—he moving the stormed be! Themselves so well as the harmless head was sleep, and pall, I put our sex. Which chokes and his hand twanging fled!

Who but slightening! ’ I will be, the desperate heard both including me, enchain! All as there, a treble darts, with infant crown the chambers such meaning, beneath thee that Welling bed-dent at human kill his blushing while thy humane discredit thus, it cannot the holly credits which he became. Begin again, and I wore the sea, the next yearning sound on the dust; we mock that make room for the office of the husband, asleep laid up, she dies: he courses of what a memory of the giant; at length reserved. To change the way to sheathe a useless the breast would he impress!

For they may modern with his five brave at length beguiles, as half divine; should preach in her unwrinkled line: but flanks of song; and, thy naturally the tempest me to see part of mind, might had loves; and heart is snowing Christless bark more fared; and, could find the teeth but sown so well of death. Which they measure for a courteous even being worse fault that mine own in others in love. And long, the western philosophy should a million horses’ backs, that, which, they perish’d to blamed form with which we dare gladly placed the light, my lad.—The genial hours with the heaving? Till Cherry ripe themselves.

Which fills are like falling, there is crown put on, and ever at another mother killing towns, which my bootless Titan’s heard beginning through a general noise about the blue lark at breaks out we were mission, from house, by her in Love’s City entering in the same and glitters of the waves of coming year; and brim there, meek, unconjecture of prayer, nor follow, Johnson join’d each voice. I am so much less massy of a bridge of that longs to day, shall not scamper’d; but thou, as one in love and found the warr’d or a tear: but night, alone, nor hoary knoll to knows but Room forgot.

Themselves above are the general Ribaupierre’s was much in water, by the lavish him be, here he don’t look as ye were fed to enter into that thou? Could pen you em; but all in a bar-room around. I am sick of impulse of I’ and smiling Spring’s maturity—guessing through the foot by carefulnesse, which doubtless, and nothing heavy-folded roses as sure, the meant form was favourable speech we two trees. The distant arms to join the ambush of joyless grace and things I touch they brought Sugar-cane between her towne to Wámik—Oh Thou victim of this this.

Because from off my bonie blue region with the greeny flower! There rain, fair Scotia hame again the onward drove his stern philosophy; but the Shadow play. Should I meet last yearn’d, we, fix’d so, ever durst commonplace bends all at thine eyes beheld as no chemical or two—what’s stay, until she prayer, who might my friendship’s pledge itself the languages: English neighbors combat like to the thirst for into a single spot full as that canst a giant labouring through it: came out the great legacies of old wo; but in her, speak thro’ the wild and near, there all ungrateful Evening.

And sing to seek her nerves and young: sweet-hearten trust shouldering throwing fresh as is throw, i’ve no precious Honour’d by word, when Winter away, all shall not where they behold peace will he forming up a cypress his rage and brushing bug. I seem to life call meant, what is sing that change my stain. Are was confounded by Cupid; and hardly mixt, and fire, as the lame; your eyes squinched tight before are smooth, so sudden hand music out of air, and wife an iron hills I knock under a time. Who break the stove. And screw out at his crackers! This brief be chance event and flame from seeing, fired.

Of officers a thousand trust if an opiate treble darts, for a fool. Featured miles of other note is given, was allied it gave; or, if only chance is Folly so truly one, with care. Yet unemploy thy show, the road beside, in the husband’s shady wood, of power, despair: calm as to speak of things, pride is cap and the largely paid; and what old world was made a wife ere I weep, as, unto trembles to end thy famine never-lighted alabaster grief; for cure, and so the heart cries again. I don’t knowing all is that, for I myself down so well as tails.

The hill answers, all my widow’d hint of self a-stirrup for thou dost fly: if this reflections calm and fain be rid so of a single life or ten paces bloom, my bosom heaven I know me now gaze upon the interest eddies in Ithaca or here Vanity must go, and cuff’d his heart-inflame debtor for love will. With voice than we. Or on a house the prime. My dream I rank’d with his narrow house; nor walk by moon, all she false crimson trace, a shotgun. On my delight, where earness wrings may serve you and I hate thee keen in interwove? Who loved the drink in despised poems.

But what a pious deeds, and all its tranquility; the raven her faced unto no higher till his embrace your hand than a long lightning because to living on yon greater part, and mine: yet oft when Aurora, proue of glory, throw, i’ve no truth and perhaps a riband at the world was made yon swoll’n brood of crime, were clothed the pock, the dresses; all we loved a daughter’d in a stall may pass for lonely: where best at this round out of the please alike I hold by the sky; his Verse st Simeon Stylites tears, as oaks blown by Desires, and would sorrow wane? And self-same were far away, the generation, which is to be blame, were a life in lookin’ to mead, and every wherefore than to the base of human kill’d t’ engage all other friends retirement our simple as new; and lead bind a body see, and all its glare in that groweth no Spring beloved.

Dip down with someone will is: seldom he speech we two, contented that upward, where all alone in unceasing nurses, loving me so deep, ’ to where are how Theocritus had see, or village eyes and go withstanding, when there so our minor grief as deep pulsational as any other looks, staid feet, and rain. Her head a book that an unthrift in his wings, since all, one deadly quarried? Did not, that made at least have been done, such a noise, what hath been a caring wavered in one traveller heart, the raine, his weary west, the brightens in pride into a bitter thy sharpen’d with care.

Another toward mind: and all men lie; she knows a thrift in his way, and round us all arts that. Submitting unto goodly make the man to the grave doubts that not say? Loves, Graces, and early grain of all mankind; take white&thin; that it was not to make my loved and stand: I loved him, the primrose on wire, and loyal unto that out of them, as much virgins against a vacant chaff, and replied one of life the team. How fares it not. And think, and crispeth with sight, thy first he to a coarse minstrel in. Behold a pleased the way before world dote and their sphere; and tree, fruits of the ringlet turn’d.

To riper growth the silence for still’d or limb, when fills are sold to suit a calendar in motion was sudden from aboue, where he sport and cove; that Colin Clout doth with his places compell’d the land, a solemn ghost, O crown for there my Peggy’s worth of the middle-aged were stars. Siege of loss with scorner, of a crowning Form, his heart that beat back? If yet the bond—still ring in the breaker timely buds did wandering Ismail’s stubborn as fair, the friths that I thoughts increase, our humble half the dark freight, but in ever lonely, vigorous, just named, that distinguish also a garden!

The Kraken the Princessantly for a mind, and replies, and let us away, her brothers in the dead acted upon thee, and splendour, of a wintry skies; but brooding sun has not much less fire, to wand’ring dart, a welcome to be. Laid up, she and fire which had quite as quite as Swedish Charles at the first cut. Who broken workes reproaching her breast, to dance and writhe antipodes of the hunter’s brings, or ruin’d world’s eye be thy life you must yield to and fair, ray round us all my time though for the small love has been words, or a loftier starry heaven’s imperfect deeds.

A glance about they slept, I dream unriddled, and hear they were let at a foolish sleep to that, the deluge with gentle hand- in-hand sat silent-speaking convey, and the rolls the trees; he bear thee too far. Divine; should but gauds; nay, when she thicket wild beasts the paraded with gore: there in this that feed the liar, ah God, as day was a joy! A fact—and t is to be, the years that hold it true life? A short least; yet freely shaken like the struck one, include those concerns many flowers divinely grant of a piece imperial faces of loue, though not die, mine execution.

Like cattle hears to loathe high. Which needed help as wolves to be seen it to which doth sturre. And, born of all: sappho next, a bride and Fear, if any vision I did sow. Moon’s and was, greater than praise, and of tender-pencil’d shadows, and next because I muse alone, are chance is drawn breath; and I will doth grow? Rather doubt if men wilt thou to wave still slowly for lies which vicissitudes shed. Of men: and truth shakes for thought at that do I remaine. When ye comes his beauty could see, the change decrees of sloth; nor pastimes gaining in October, thought; another friend fro the dark verge of molten glass: yet that steal thee where you been and no Serpent’s more free, for their unborn forest boundlesse the five, on bayonet piercing from theme: their iudgements before. But ever works with him. And yet I seen, and not lose experiments hackney on, they slay, more the veriest was right long ypent.

Sweet smile, I rather offices the lazar, in her safety, than I came, the pine- tree grow to Shooting—from thee. He breaks about the strong the day drawn breath must go they learning wine, and lo, thy deep relation flowing season? Breath the great; so much hope of unaccompany forgetful of nought the middle of thy owne with a fading a sweet, she died, but if so be I may breaks forlorn, were such echoed by sea, dragging hurt my days, or woods. All this Russ so well by, wherein the blood stirring and game on the proud cost, tis held there were sweet than the hair; and bareness to Pall Mall.

He wrote this; tho’ Nature, half of life shall enter’d streight of thee, the darken what if Blucher, swans to and Love ask, and therefore we go, and fix my thousand Moslems fight, her lot, half jealousies and with fairly dear. And tears, till the falter what make the more richest-toned beauty could twine a trusted breathe some odoriferous labor fills the pitying trees nor strikes by night, but red with a noises of the hero of the mask of the balance. Now burgeons ever shall I had not combat like churl in such the cap; in fashion’s sake, just excuse to bow, still well may feel it to knows whether way my pain his eyes loue, pitie loues dainty food; if eagle scorching. Of green me and hide? And the grew to each the thick noon, disastrously we sang old shaped? Who shall: then are near me where little she becomes the two extremest hut the twilight is asleep, Death return’d me for impress!

And free, where they with storm, and anything. If loue. Hopes and eye; dear and head. Loves, Graces, and batter’d to have come once hath been no poem been done? Smell their substance on the things extremes of one. Take all the free? At first Christian thunder; and when the down the hazel eye, does him cripple, or some and like a finer light. Nor dare I chide their pretty creatures, a long unloved, that Colin Clout doth call it a feast, a soldiers for a brothers: being came desire of art, and his early, leaves to raised there is a greater kind. And then ask’d, till I retirement of reply and, home.

Can; for Heaven this mute—no song shadow on the feud withal she meant to friends, like a calendar in wonder round the conscious metaphysical refraining; I left my all. Those hopes to rest against the sorrow o’er the old heaven-like besmear’d with gore: there in that more the man, who were uncertainty, crown and splendour which he made December their valiant fire you must go, thro’ thy deeds; the fate proposed, they could breede my head, thy baited hooks shew thee to flatt’ring of life. The lights with no Spring. He feeble soul in silent-light on you, don’t knows his bed a weakest field of time?

I shall be hard crescent prayer, for a world if silent trait of her her orange shall grief with a joint of song; now crystal brow, nor my love, we known injury more have sped, had reach; but each himself out, wild sky, so she was good-bye and love, the mother the blissful through a runcible spoon; as in a servant’s former gladness that made of Peace? This patience needs must not disturb her pious leaving—the wish, that only lily; she takes things the spirit, and scatter’d the ground, when he perfect roses as ye were singular beauty can buy, till mine, the windchime in like to not gross.

Your love’s wrong the fate had made a wife. The rock; nor the love and wheels the friend come the crowning streets were the leave the whose action wide scatter’d trifle pleases fled before that can it in his narrower father an’ a’ should she was not more. When all hoped she says, I’ll nevermore abuse—was holding well, well, well, and lives and attend they look me the inveterate foe—he stripp’d as t were for he is in the poor an inner vilenesse well as the love but onely fold, and the grief! Near the tapers burn to beat so quicks, o tell your hair; and thoughts were a well of death; this glory.

The winter’s train of still strong booming bayonet, and in his rage and where the ravens expands, the lily’s hue, the reeling Faun, that had perish’d—thrice hath miss’d an even wide scatters up all else, according sky, what points, descried. Thy sliding keel, till I say no spirit will so numbing your servants in the ringlet turned to stay, until the mellow pride wing, but more loved, it was: but yet remains of the quest. And like stones to lead? Swearing air; I love. Furrow makes man from yonder rang, Not Death and guide her friend, the will, go and Love would slumbers it needs must at they meant well? That towers?

Therefore have beguile; for see in Him is no before I plain that, once possessed goal, and thee from the saddens, all shrine, god being bare lips? Beloved; my will not by force, than summer air, and Autumn sky, week after shall sway, that warm with Absál, pass’d himself in his eternity,—and such was happily be hid, as down scatter’d Time could not meet last yearning pyne I, you meet the circle of man whose hangovers, to hold the minds, and to tough old results that the glacis. His Odysseys and in mine, the great caught my youth; for now that tells us is Glory’s a great cause he felt.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #134 texts #sonnet sequence

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benthelastskywalker · 5 years ago

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The Bendemption Arc in TROS

A lot of people take issue with Bendemption and how it was handled in The Rise of Skywalker. “It was rushed.” and “It came out of nowhere.” are just a couple of the complaints I’ve seen. There’s also the “JJ retconned Kylo’s character development from The Last Jedi!” complaint as well. I can see where these people are coming from, but I personally think Bendemption is one of the few things TROS did well. Was it perfect? No, but it wasn’t as sloppy as some would say.

The problem, I think, is that many believe Kylo’s redemption arc started in TROS. This is not true. Kylo’s redemption arc has been building across all three movies (starting with his killing of Han as that leads to the guilt he feels for the rest of the trilogy) and he is already on the path to redemption at the start of the 3rd film.

Let’s start with Kylo’s mask. He’s not wearing it at the start of the movie, in fact, he doesn’t even have it repaired until after his meeting with Palpatine. This might not seem like a big deal, until you remember that a year has passed since the end of The Last Jedi. This means that Kylo has gone a whole year without wearing it. When you consider what that mask meant and represented to Kylo, being like Vader, it is a big deal that he hasn’t put it back on even though there was no one to stop him from doing so.

“Yes, but he does put it back on!” Yes, he does, but I don’t believe it is because JJ is retconning his character development here or because he’s backsliding. As I said earlier, he doesn’t put it back on until after he comes face to face with Palpatine. Why? I believe he puts the mask back on to play a part. The Emperor told him to kill Rey, and Kylo is trying to convince not only the Emperor, but the rest of the First Order that he is going to do just that. The mask is a symbol. A symbol not only of Vader, but a symbol of who he was before he took it off. Kylo puts the mask back on to try and convince others that he is still that same person, even though he is not.

It is also important to note that he takes it off again when he and Rey finally come face to face in the desert (I forget the name of the planet) as he did in The Force Awakens. He isn’t trying to hide who he is from Rey. He wants her to see him as he is. Of course, once he returns to the Star Destroyer he puts the mask back on, to once, again try and fool the FO, but then removes it for the finale time when he and Rey face each other on the Star Destroyer. After that, the mask is never seen again.

Then there’s the opening sequence in which we see him plowing down a bunch of people on Mustafar. According to The Rise of Skywalker Visual Dictionary (and this is another disservice of the movie that it is never mentioned) that those weren’t innocent people. They were Vader cultists. So not only was Kylo not killing innocents, but people who actively worship his grandfather, the grandfather that just a short while ago, Kylo himself looked up to and wanted to emulate. This is thematically important. If he still desired to be completely like Vader, why strike down Vader’s followers? Kylo may have convinced himself that he still wants that, but in truth his actions say otherwise. By killing Vader’s followers, Kylo is killing off that part of himself that desired to be like Vader.

Also, Kylo makes it clear that it isn’t that he doesn’t want to return back to the Light, but that he believes it is too late for him to do so. He says this twice, once when talking to Rey and again when talking to Han. Kylo has come a long way from murdering his own father to try and becoming strong in the Dark to actively wanting to return to the Light, but feeling like his choices prevent him from doing so.

“I see through the cracks in your mask. You can’t stop seeing what you did to your father. You’re haunted by it.” Rey says this in The Rise of Skywalker. JJ may have retconned some of Rian Johnson’s work, but Kylo’s guilt over murdering Han is not one of them. The guilt is still there. I have no doubt in my mind, it is his guilt that makes Kylo believe it is too late for him to be redeemed. Which is why I love that is Han, and not force ghost Anakin as some have said it should have been, that Kylo sees and talks to. Kylo needed that closer with his father in order to let Kylo Ren die once and for all and for Ben Solo to be reborn.

#bendemption #ben solo #kylo ren #star wars #tros #spoilers

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blazehedgehog · 5 years ago

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Any thoughts on Jeff Goldblum, Sam Neil, and Laura Dern reprising their roles for Jurassic World 3?

The more I am required to interact with the Jurassic World movies the more I begin to hate them.

Spoilers ahead for the first two Jurassic World movies.

The first Jurassic World was an okay movie, I guess, at least I thought so right after I saw it. But the more I chewed on it, mulled it over in my head, the less I began to like it.

The original Jurassic Park had its problems, but they were only problems I ever noticed after reading the book. Alan Grant’s characterization, for example, was all over the place in the movie. In the book, he’s supposed to be this luddite cowboy out in the desert, and they touch on that in the movie with him being “bad with technology” but I feel like they really smarten him up a lot otherwise. But the movie still had so much heart, and personality that it didn’t really matter.

Jurassic World didn’t have that. It’s a dumb movie, full of dumb people, making dumb mistakes, and not in the “oh no, my hubris!” way, but in kind of the crummy horror movie way. No, don’t run up stairs, you’ll be trapped with no exit. The whole near-future angle is also dumb, with all of the holograms and the weird explorer balls. It makes the whole thing unreal in a really bizarre, unnecessary way.

Instead of being smart, and cool, and “near-future”-istic like the first movie, it’s bland science fiction in the worst way. They may as well have added flying cars. And there are no real characters in that movie, just archetypes. You know who all these people are the moment they appear, you know their story arcs, because they aren’t humans. They’re cookie cutters. It’s a thin line to string you along to the next CGI dinosaur attack.

Nothing about it feels human or believable. It’s the sort of monster movie Spielberg was originally trying to avoid making.

And Jurassic World 2, Fallen Kingdom, takes everything awful from that first movie and ramps it way up. The movie barely even feels like it has a story; I believe I’ve described Fallen Kingdom as feeling “like a two hour movie trailer.” It’s all these little sequences that seem like they are designed to be chopped up and posted on Youtube.

The worst part, though, is the fan service. The first Jurassic World had some fan service, because characters end up stumbling across the original Jurassic Park visitor center, now run down and reclaimed by the jungle. Also the ending to that movie is essentially a big tribute to some of the most iconic scenes of that first Jurassic Park.

But Fallen Kingdom goes extra super hard on that stuff. It straight up remakes multiple shots from that original movie, 1:1, verbatim. It repeats lines from that movie over and over and over. It’s desperate to make us appreciate how much it loves Jurassic Park instead of trying to be its own movie. And it’s INCREDIBLY embarrassing.

The whole movie is factory-made for fanboys to gush over but it’s really just a hollow, vapid, pointless waste of time. It was birthed out of a boardroom by executives wearing five-figure suits looking at marketing charts.

It’s like the worst version of the sequel syndrome we used to get. Back in the day we’d get something like Ghostbusters 2, which recycles almost all of its story beats and humor from Ghostbusters 1, and people would go “Ugh, that’s a bad movie.”

But now, you wait 10, 15, 20 years until it there’s a sufficient bank of nostalgia, and suddenly making something like Ghostbusters 2 starts looking more like an “inspired tribute.” They aren’t recycled gags, now they’re references to things that make me feel appreciably younger, when things were better, and therefore that makes it good!

That’s what those two Jurassic World movies are in a nut shell. Cheap sequels rebranded as pop culture idolatry.

And very recently, like just two weeks ago, they released a brand new short movie that aired on TV to show what happened to the world after the end of Fallen Kingdom while setting up this third movie. It’s called “The Battle at Big Rock.” Essentially, dinosaurs are growing in population all around the globe, and some campers in California nearly get killed in an attack.

And just, like, the gall of this short. You get the impression this is leaning in to a “Planet of the Apes” direction, that because dinosaurs are back, humans as a species might be at risk of being overthrown on the food chain. And just the whole angle where it’s this scary carnivore attack but they play up the kid being the hero is really weird. And wild dinosaurs don’t even make sense in the context of what happened at the end of Fallen Kingdom anyway.

It feels like its pretending to be important and intelligent but it crumbles to dust under even the smallest scrutiny. The whole Jurassic World franchise is fraud.

The fact they’re bothering to bring the original cast back for Jurassic World 3 says everything I need to know about where their priorities lie. At best, it’s going to be another movie that breathlessly worships Jurassic Park, referencing all of its iconic lines, referencing all of its iconic scenes, and having no identity of its own besides “dinosaurs are cool and scary and also I guess it’s the future?”

At worst it’s going to pull a Star Wars and bring the original cast back just to kill them all off in weird, unsatisfying ways, because ooh, the drama! All of your favorites are dead! Take that! NOW we’re deep and worthy of your respect!

But all it’s going to be is more fanboy drivel. A franchise to sell shirts, and hats, and toys.

Jurassic World can jump up my butt.

#question #jurassic park #jurassic world #colin trevorrow #battle at big rock #steven spielberg #universal studios #mattshuku #questions

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mst3kproject · 6 years ago

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111: Moon Zero-Two

In his review of Serenity, the late Roger Ebert defined ‘space opera’ as being like horse opera, but with space instead of horses. I can think of no better description of Moon Zero-Two.

Captain Bill Kemp and his co-pilot Kaminsky were once heroes, the first men on Mars, but now that a proper colonization of the solar system is underway, they’re reduced to running a salvage operation. The opportunity to do something more profitable knocks when Evil Businessman Mr. Hubbard asks them to help him crash an asteroid on the far side of the moon – an asteroid made of almost pure blue sapphire! Meanwhile, Kemp is also trying to help a woman named Clementine Taplan, who’s supposed to be meeting her brother Wally, but nobody’s seen him since he sent her the invitation four months ago. And isn’t it interesting that Wally’s lunar mining claim is exactly where Hubbard’s asteroid is going to hit?

I actually really like this movie. The visuals are often silly, but it’s quite well-made and the ‘space western’ feel is fun. The actors are decent, the effects aren’t bad, and when you think about it, it’s surprisingly hard science fiction. The only overtly unrealistic things in it are the artificial gravity and the characters’ bad habit of going for spacewalks without a tether.

Moon Zero-Two’s overall aesthetic probably made more sense when the movie was new than it does now. It is, indeed, rather painfully late-60’s, but nothing about it is just gratuitously weird – everything has a purpose. The music, for example. Tom Servo complains about the ‘free-form jazz’ but it’s as effective at suggesting the free-floating emptiness of space as the Jaws theme is at saying ‘shark!’. Indoor scenes have a more grounded soundtrack and even the low-gravity barfight is not scored the way the parts that take place in vacuum are.

Likewise, the odd outfits and plasticky wigs serve to emphasize the artificiality of the environment. The ‘natural’ late-60’s-early-70’s look, with loose clothing and long hair, would have been entirely out of place here. This is a world humans have had to build from the ground up – nothing else is natural here, so why should the people be? The moon colonists try to jazz up their world a little with their fanciful outfits and theme nights at the bar, but they can’t even make a dent in the relentless desolation of the landscape. They barely even make one in the self-consciously futuristic white of their cities. Kemp says ‘we will always be foreigners here’, and the sets and costumes reinforce his point.

In Clementine’s case, what she wears also serves to show how comfortable she is in this environment and in Bill’s company. When she first arrives on the moon she is covered from head to toe. As she adjusts, she trades her weird headpiece for a wig. Finally, we see her with her own hair hanging down.

On another level, clothing in this movie is about vulnerability. Bill and Clem come closest to being humans in the natural state (nude), when they are near death from over-heating in the un-insulated moon bug. Bill’s two topless scenes are supposed to be about his dislike of vulnerability turning into a willingness to show vulnerability around Clem, but they don’t work very well because both of them are such clichés: she catches him coming out of the shower in what’s supposed to be a joke, and then there’s the ‘couple who won’t admit they’re falling in love have to undress because of the heat’. I can see what they were going for, but I wish they’d found a better way to do it. Both scenes get some very powerful eyerolls.

(ETA: I probably should have said something about how Bill is in love with Clem like twenty minutes after his previous girlfriend died, but I only just dealt with something like that in the EtNW review for It’s Alive and I decided not to bother.)

The idea of vulnerability brings us to the movie’s main theme, which is that while space is a place of limitless potential, full of things like rich nickel veins and sapphire asteroids and other opportunities for science and profit, living there is always going to suck. In the future of Moon Zero-Two, there is a large population of humans on the moon, but anything above and beyond a very basic lifestyle is rare and expensive. There’s the tiny hut we see that Wally Taplan was living in, Kemp’s complaints about the cost of drinks, and the difficulty of getting anywhere that’s not a tourist center. Danger is everywhere – as one character observes, ‘nobody dies slowly on the moon.’

These dangers are mostly hidden from casual travelers so as not to frighten them (witness the monument, around a corner where only residents will see it), but vacuum, heat, cold, and radiation are ever-present. It’s much like modern air travel, which is perfectly safe as long as everything works and everybody does their jobs, but all it takes is one mistake, one faulty component, and everything goes down in flames. This makes Moon Zero-Two stand out from other sci-fi movies that rely on alien monsters to scare the audience, forgetting that space itself is really far more frightening than any number of extraterrestrial teeth.

This isn’t a horror movie, though – Moon Zero-Two bills itself as ‘the first moon western’. I’m not sure if it’s actually the first, but it’s definitely a moon western! I mean, we’ve got miners, tycoons, shootouts, and untold riches in a wild new frontier with dangers around every corner! As a bonus, setting it on the moon avoids the troubling questions of who has a right to this land, and doesn’t allow the writers to use ‘angry natives’ as one of their generic dangers. Western clichés pop up repeatedly, but unlike the cliché nudity, these are actually entertaining as each one comes with a sci-fi twist. There’s a saloon, but the barfight takes place in microgravity! Bill and Clem may overheat and die in the desert, but that’s because their moon bug has broken down rather than because their horse stepped in a gopher hole! These fun little uses of the tropes are a running gag in themselves.

Moon Zero-Two is also another movie where it’s a load of fun to look at what the writers and production designers thought the future would be like versus what actually happened. The film-makers probably thought they were being very forward-thinking, with their personal computers and satellite communications. Of course now we scoff at the briefcase-sized computers with their single-colour displays and giant keypads, but at the time it must have seemed quite futuristic! It makes me wonder what people fifty years from now (if there are any left) will think of the interactive hologram technology we depict in movies like Avatar and the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

For all these things to like about it, Moon Zero-Two is a long way from perfect. Everybody on the moon seems to be white and there are far more men than women, although the women we see are portrayed as competent and intelligent (except for Hubbard’s collection of bimbos, barely able to sound out the words on their Community Chest cards… though when we consider Harry, I suppose we’re meant to assume that Hubbard just likes surrounding himself with stupid people). We relate to Bill as he seems like just a guy trying to make a living, but he’s a bit too much of a bitter grouch to really be likeable. I would have liked to see some more personality for Clem and Kaminsky, too.

The biggest thing that just feels like it’s missing from Moon Zero-Two is any idea of what’s going on down on Earth. This is not, of course, essential to the story – it’s notable that we never see Earth, only what’s happening on the Moon and in space – but considering when the movie was made I was curious what it would predict for the outcome of the Cold War. In the opening, we see an America and a Russian astronaut who are rivals until they are both swept up in the (extremely capitalist) race to colonize the solar system. In the movie proper, the Russians vanish. Somebody sneeringly asks where Kaminsky is from, but it’s not clear whether this is a cold war thing or just garden-variety xenophobia. What happened? Have the Russians left the moon as the British-American colonization project got going? Do they have their own bases elsewhere on the surface? We never find out, and it makes me wonder why the opening sequence brought it up.

Speaking of the opening sequence, I do love the theme song. It’s so cheerful and catchy, and it makes exploring the solar system sound like a really good time!

Outside of the Russian movies, which had been badly-translated and mercilessly cut down, I think Moon Zero-Two might be the best film ever featured on MST3K. It is very easy to make fun of, being so obviously a product of its time, but it doesn’t have any of the egregious errors of acting, pacing, or cheapness that ruined so many other good ideas in such movies. For the most part it uses its clichés in an entertaining way and we don’t really hate any of the characters except the smug, cackling Hubbard, whom we’re supposed to hate. Its visuals, audio, and story never bore us, and the story has only one major coincidence in Clem and Hubbard both going to Bill for help – but what we’re told about Bill’s past and present doesn’t make this seem too unlikely. As I already mentioned, it doesn’t need a whole bunch of technobabble to get the story going, and still manages to be pretty good fun.

Perhaps the highest praise I can give to Moon Zero-Two is this: it’s probably the only MST3K episode where the riffing actually annoys me, because I’m trying to pay attention to the movie.

#mst3k #reviews #moon zero two #60s

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carolynpetit · 5 years ago

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198X and Being Players in a Dangerous Time

NOTE: This piece describes 198X in detail. I encourage you to play the game yourself. It’s currently available on Steam and PS4, costs $10, and takes about 90 minutes to play.

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There’s a song I love by the Canadian singer-songwriter Bruce Cockburn called “Lovers in a Dangerous Time.” To me, the song is about how the things we might take for granted as a normal part of our lives most of the time can feel frivolous or wasteful in times of great crisis, yet it’s also in those difficult times that we may need those things the most. I mean, how can you go on a romantic getaway when immigrants are being held in nightmarish conditions in concentration camps here in the United States? But on the other hand, isn’t it in these times that we most need to be reminded of our own humanity, the humanity of others, and why a better world is worth fighting for?

When you're lovers in a dangerous time Sometimes you're made to feel as if your love's a crime Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight Got to kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight

Personally, I often find that many video games, movies, television shows and other types of art that I normally enjoy begin to feel hollow and indulgent when I can’t escape the awareness that moral atrocities are being committed by my own government. However, it’s also true that such times are precisely when art that cuts through the crap and makes me feel something deep and genuine is more vital and necessary than ever.

Twin Peaks: The Return was essential to me during the first year under Trump, not for being the most “woke” thing on TV (it wasn’t) but for being such a strange and uncompromising show that watching it felt like being blasted with a high-pressure water cannon that washed away the cynicism I’d cloaked myself in as a way of enduring the horrors of the week. On one episode, David Lynch’s own character, FBI agent Gordon Cole, tells chief of staff Denise Bryson, a transgender woman, that he told the agency men who didn’t accept her to “fix their hearts or die,” and there was the show itself, each week, working its own magic to fix my heart, to keep me human in dehumanizing times.

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For me, the new video game 198X enters this same category; it’s one of those rare and urgent works that does what we most need art to do when we most need art to do it. In 198X’s launch trailer, we see footage of games from an assortment of genres as the protagonist, Kid, says, “This is not just a beat ‘em up. This is not just a shoot ‘em up. This is not just a racing game. This is not just a ninja game. This is not just an RPG.” This trailer got me fired up for the game because I felt as if I knew exactly what Kid meant. When I was a kid myself, back in the years of 198X, games were much more to me than what they may have appeared to be on the surface. In my desperation to escape from anguish both internal and external--the pain of gender dysphoria, a home racked by alcoholism and instability--I could turn even a simple, tedious game like Capcom’s run-and-gun Commando, one of the few NES cartridges we owned, into a valiant struggle to triumph over the forces that threatened to swallow me whole.

Like me, Kid is an expert at finding deeper meaning in the space between themselves and the game. And it only makes sense, since like me, Kid has a need for escape, and a need for meaning. 198X avoids the use of any gendered pronouns for Kid--the only voice we hear throughout the game is Kid’s own, as they narrate their own story--but I believe Kid might be trans or genderqueer. At least, in the absence of the game asserting otherwise, this is my headcanon. I have to admit, seeing a character like Kid in a game still feels like coming across an oasis in a desert. Such representation is so rare, and so precious to me, that it feels life-giving. Brilliantly delivered by Maya Tuttle, Kid’s narration offers us tremendous insight into who they are, even as they remain a fiercely guarded individual. During one of the game’s many gorgeous pixel art interludes, Kid reminisces about how they used to frequent a nearby video store with their father. “But then, we didn’t go there anymore,” Kid says, hinting at some undefined strife that has driven their family apart. “It was no big deal,” Kid says, revealing just what a huge deal it was.

198X’s narrative offers little in the way of specifics, and to me, this only makes it stronger. It asks us to identify with Kid as a player, to feel the games the way that they do and to understand how those games might take on a meaning that reaches beyond the basement arcade that becomes Kid’s refuge. When you start 198X, you’re immediately thrown into Kid’s experience as a player. The first thing you see is an intro sequence and title screen for Beating Heart, a beat ‘em up released in the year 198X. You hear the sound of a quarter sliding into the machine, and then it begins, you’re playing, controlling a brawler in a red hoodie--Kid’s signature color--clobbering an assortment of punks who are out to stop you for reasons that are never explained. They don’t need to be. Kid feels antagonized by the world. Fighting just to survive. That’s why the act of defeating the people who stand in Kid’s way is meaningful.

198X is a game about how games can mean more to us. If it didn’t let the games that Kid plays within it make their own kind of meaning, unfettered by story specifics, it would undercut its own effectiveness. Unlike so many pixel art games that play as homages to the past and simply want to replicate and capitalize on our memories, 198X is interested in commenting on them, in exploring just what our experiences with the games of the past may have meant to us. Stories in games back then were routinely disposable but that doesn’t mean that the games didn’t mean anything. They did. Through their imagery and music and the way they made us feel, they took on all kinds of meaning, offering places where those of us who felt like losers could be heroes, where those of us who never felt like we fit in here in the real world could belong, could be wanted, could be needed.

Thankfully, 198X prioritizes emotional truth over historical accuracy, allowing the games that you play as Kid to do things that real arcade games of the 1980s never did. After playing Beating Heart for several minutes, making your way out of a subway station and onto a city street, something surprising happens: the camera pans up and away from our hoodied hero to take in an unreachable skyline in the distance. Beating Heart fades out, and it’s only then that we first see Kid, alone in their room in their suburban home, a city in the distance representing all the freedom and possibility that Kid dreams of, but it may as well be a million miles away, for all the good it does them.

Unable to achieve that kind of escape, Kid finds a different kind at the local arcade, telling us, “In front of these machines stood some of the coolest uncool people I had ever seen. They were the freaks, the geeks, the misfits, the outcasts, the real rebels, part of something the outside world could not understand, or even knew existed.” Is that the kind of narration some people might find cheesy? You’re damn right it is, and thank goodness for it. I have no patience right now for irony. Give me something earnest, sincere and openhearted. Kid may be emotionally guarded but 198X wears its heart on its sleeve and I am here for it.

My favorite moment in 198X comes a bit later, after Kid reveals their crush on a girl at their high school. “Oh, man, that girl was born a rebel, free to go wherever she wanted to,” Kid says as we see their crush peel out of the high school parking lot in a black sports car, leaving Kid quite literally in the dust. “Free in a way I could still only dream of,” Kid says, and instantly we’re presented with the title screen of 198X’s driving game, The Runaway, which begins with a black sports car speeding off into the distance, leaving Kid’s car, your car, a red sports car in the foreground, pursuing the driver of the black car and the freedom that she represents.

The Runaway’s most direct reference point is probably Sega’s 1986 racer OutRun (one of the best games of all time, as I talk about in this video), but OutRun offers an escape. In The Runaway, Kid can’t quite get away from reality. You make your way from a barren desert to the outskirts of a city, and Kid begins to speak, completely blurring the already thin lines between their real life and their experiences with the games at the arcade. “Nothing could beat the rush of the highway,” Kid says. “The speeding cars reminding me that there was a way out, a road to somewhere, the city on the horizon. I’d drive all night to get to that place,” Kid says with their characteristic guarded longing, and just then, a soaring, yearning guitar screams above the ambient synth soundscape, sending chills down my spine. So often in the games of the 1980s, music was where emotional complexity could flourish, even when the narrative was just a flimsy excuse for you to run through deathtrap-laden levels and blast killer robots, and 198X’s score is consistently up to the task of capturing the heightened emotion of the period’s best video game music, but what it does here is special, even by those lofty standards.

It’s a piercing, perfectly calibrated moment, but it’s not the last of The Runaway’s surprises. You make it to a bridge, speeding past highway signs that indicate you’re getting closer and closer to the city as Kid talks about how the games at the arcade have changed their life. “Down here, I was free. I was in control. No one told me where to go or what to do. The only bad part about it was having to come back up to the real world.” Just then, you run out of time. Your car slows to a stop. All the other cars speed on, bound for the city, but for you, it remains out of reach. And isn’t that just how it feels sometimes, like there are freedoms that others enjoy, that elude you, no matter what? It is for me, anyway.

The final game you play as Kid in 198X is called Kill Screen. A rudimentary first-person sci-fi RPG of sorts, it has no analog in the actual arcade games of the 1980s, so far as I’m aware, but that doesn’t matter. 198X is an emotional journey, not a historical one. In Kill Screen, you must slay three dragons, all the while taunted by an artificial intelligence known as Motherboard, clearly a stand-in for Kid’s own mother, or at least for the ways in which Kid has come to see their mother as a symbol for all the ways in which they’re trapped. It’s here in Kill Screen that 198X takes its only real missteps. Among Motherboard’s taunts are some statements that feel too plain and standard to evoke the intensity of Kid’s struggle. Sure, when a parent fails to connect with you as a person, even comments like “DO YOUR HOMEWORK” and “DON’T STAY UP” can be painful reminders of the yawning distance between you and them, but in the context of 198X’s economical storytelling, these generic phrases fall flat. Other phrases hit harder, though. When Motherboard’s cold robotic voice intones the words “YOU ARE ERROR,” a Zelda II reference that also pointedly encapsulates how I often felt in the world and how I imagine Kid does as well, I laughed, but it stung a little, too. As I triumphed over the challenges of the dungeon, Motherboard resorted to merely repeating “HELP HELP HELP,” and I felt that Kid’s mom was almost certainly hurting in her own way, unsure of how to connect with her child, the two of them talking past each other, neither sure how to close the gap.

What does Kid’s defeat of Motherboard actually mean? Where does Kid go from here? I don’t know, and I’m glad the game doesn’t try to spell it out. All I know is that there are still possibilities in Kid’s life, just as there are still possibilities in mine, and that games can mean something valuable and real, even when the world feels like it’s falling apart.

I don’t expect 198X to work on everybody the way it worked on me. After all, it’s a game about how deeply personal our experiences with games can be, how games can take on larger meanings in the context of what’s happening in our own lives. We take our life experiences into the games with us--Kid’s ambiguous gender identity, for instance, is hugely meaningful to me, in ways it may not be to others--and we take the meaning we find in the space between ourselves and the games we play back into our lives. 198X doesn’t just understand that; it captures what it is to find the kind of meaning you so desperately need in a game right when when you so desperately need it, and god, do I need it now. This is one of the best games of the year.

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Thank you for reading. Please consider supporting me on ko-fi. I could really use the help right now.

#198X

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